Money Can't Buy You Love
by NCCJFAN
Summary: So it's been hinted that a twist will happen in CJ that will keep Woody and Jordan apart...and it's beyond Jordan's control. So what if it happens like this?
1. Money Can't Buy You Love

**Money can buy a lot of things….groceries, gas for my Envoy, a college education for my kids, Starbucks coffee, and Hershey's Chocolate Kisses. On the right occasion, it can help buy the people I love the things they need and want. **

**However, it hasn't bought me Crossing Jordan. Darn that Tim Kring, he just refuses to sell.**

**So I don't own CJ, nor the rights to the song _Can't Buy Me Love_ by John Lennon and Paul McCartney. I love the early Beatles, but after the White Album, they just got too weird for me.**

**However, the Stones still rock, but are getting a little old for touring….in my opinion, anyway. But did you know Keith Richards is playing Johnny Depp's father in the next Pirates movie? Cool, huh? As many drugs as he's done and he can still read a script...**

**However, I digress….**

**

* * *

****Chapter One**

**Money Can't Buy Me Love**

_I'll buy you a diamond ring my friend if it makes you feel alright  
I'll get you anything my friend if it makes you feel alright  
'cause I don't care too much for money, and money can't buy me love  
_

The lyrics to the Beatles song drifted out over the oldies station in Jordan's office. Absent-mindedly, she hummed along

_I'll give you all I got to give if you say you'll love me too  
I may not have a lot to give but what I got I'll give to you  
I don't care too much for money, money can't buy me love  
_

"Can't buy me loo-vveee," she sang along as she glanced over the paperwork before she started an autopsy on a Mr. Charles Van Guard. "Everybody tells me so…Can't buy me loooveee, no, no, no, no……"

Then grimaced at the reality of the words.

Money. Money could buy her a lot of things….better car, better apartment, better clothes. Jewelry. A good retirement plan. The resources to travel. Things she had dreamed always dreamed about.

But it couldn't buy her love. More specifically, it couldn't buy her _Woody's love_. He could care less if she had money or was flat-assed broke. At one time, the man seemed to have wanted her more than he did his next breath. Now he simply no longer cared. Just when she was comfortable with him again…healed from his initial rejection of her at the hospital after he was shot, trusted him with her heart, he decides to slow the relationship down.

Okay, he had his reasons. One night of unbridled, passionate sex at the Lucy Carver Inn…the event that sent sensuous shock waves through them that reverberated for days afterwards….days when all he had to do was simply walk in the room and she was ready to melt into him…Maybe he had the right to ask her to slow things down as they sorted out their respected feelings…especially hers concerning JD.

But, convinced he was the rebound man, Woody had not only slowed the relationship down, he had stopped it, handing her the "friends" line once again. "Let's be friends…still see each other, but leave our options open….just to be sure."

The fact was, Jordan didn't want any other options. She wanted him. On both the emotional level and in the most basic way. She. Wanted. Him. Period.

A want that seemed to be doomed to go unmet. Due to a chain of events that Jordan had no control over, she now seemed even less desirable to him than ever. She had argued with him that it hadn't changed her…she was still the same Jordan she always was, but it didn't do any good. He didn't believe her. She sighed as she got up to change into her scrubs to perform Mr. Van Guard's autopsy.

_Say you don't need no diamond ring and I'll be satisfied  
Tell me that you want the kind of thing that money just can't buy  
I don't care too much for money, money can't buy me love  
_

Jordan turned the radio off with a firm click.

* * *

Woody flipped open the file on Charles Van Guard. It seemed to be pretty open and shut…man slips on patch of ice at train platform. Man falls on rails. Man has lousy sense of timing…man gets splattered by train.

Open and shut…in and out. Only Jordan was the answering ME and nothing was ever that simple with her. She'd run tox screens for days, convinced that the man was drugged and then pushed in front of the midnight train out of Boston to Springfield. Woody pinched the bridge of his nose in aggravation.

Space wasn't doing them a favor. After the night at the Lucy Carver Inn, he was adult enough to realize they needed time as well as space to let their actions filter out…what did it mean…did it mean anything?

However, he was man enough to recall every curve of her body…the most sensitive spots…the ones that made her catch her breath and arch her back, moan softly and cling to him like there was no tomorrow. He remembered the way her voice caught in the back of her throat right before she came and how afterwards she didn't want to let him go, content for them to stay wrapped in each other's arms until morning.

Ah, morning. The cold, harsh light coupled with the cold, harsh truth. They had waffled around it for weeks, but then Woody had pulled out his well-worn "let's-be-friends" card, hoping she would trump it.

She didn't. She folded hercards and went back to her office.

So much for gambling on love.

Things had gone downhill from there…even with him playing the flop … "Let's keep our options open…just to make sure…"

The hurt look in her eyes had bothered and elated him. No man likes to hurt the woman he loves…but the fact that she registered a negative emotion about him possibly seeing other women gave him hope that she would step up to the plate and tell him, "No way."

Instead she had slid back into her office and shut the door….and him out of her life. They still saw each other, even went out occasionally, but it wasn't the same. She had pushed him away.

In desperation, he had begun dating again. Lu. Annie. Santana. No one steady or special, but it sure beat the hell out of staying home on the weekend or spending all day Saturday in the gym.

And then it happened…the event that propelled Jordan into a realm where he could never reach her and where she would never reach out to him. He knew that now. Such things….and events … were life altering, even though she had spent an entire evening trying to convince him that she would never change…she would remain Jordan.

He didn't believe her for a minute. What was now placed on her was both the thing that dreams and nightmares were made of. What Jordan chose to do with it was her business. He just knew that most likely he could never fit into her life again.

Which was for the best, he kept telling himself. Jordan wasn't the type of woman who could settle down, even if she wanted to. She'd always be after that next adventure…that next unsolved mystery…that next open case. Her work was her life and her life was the morgue.

And most like he would never find a permanent place in either.

* * *

"So….how are you doing?" asked Lily, from the doorway of Jordan's office.

"Are you asking me as a friend or as a counselor-type-person?" Jordan answered back, a smile playing at her lips.

Lily smiled in response. "As your friend. Howard's your shrink."

"And how do you feel about that?" Jordan deadpanned back, imitating the state psychologist to the best of her ability. Both the women laughed before Lily came in and shut the door. Then she plopped herself down on the corner of Jordan's desk.

"Has it sunk in yet?" Lily asked.

"That my grandmother died?"

"Well…that's part of it."

Jordan sat back in her chair and carefully studied her nails for a moment. With her father gone, her grandmother had been her only link left to her mother and the only other living relative she had in Boston…and nearly anywhere else. "I don't know," she replied softly and honestly. "I have only had sporadic contact with her since she tried to take me away from Dad when I was about twelve. I'm sad…I guess. She died alone…with only her servants. I didn't even know she was sick."

"Would you have gone to her if you did know?"

Jordan nodded. "No one deserves to be alone when they're sick, much less when they're dying, Lils."

Lily thought for a moment. "Have you decided what you're going to do with all that _money_?"

Jordan buried her head in her hands for a moment. Money. The same issue that had bothered her since this morning when the Beatles song invaded her office. _Money can't buy me love…_

It might not be able to do that, but it had raised all kinds of issues in Jordan's life that she never anticipating dealing with. At Margaret's death, Jordan had become her sole surviving heir, receiving not only her own trust fund, but her mother's…and except for a few charitable donations, Margaret's entire Beacon Hill estate. The family home. Money. Investments. Jewelry. The house at Martha's Vineyard.

In short, Jordan was set for life. She not only now did not have to work, overnight she had become one of Boston's most eligible, single women. "I'm not sure yet," she countered to Lily. Lily had been genuinely concerned about this new facet of Jordan's life and how she was going to deal with it. "I know I won't quit work…the thought of spending my days attending teas and luncheons completely terrifies me."

Lily chuckled. Somehow she couldn't ever see her friend at a white-gloved tea party discussing her last bridge game. "I didn't think you would. But are you going to move into your grandmother's house?"

Jordan nodded. "I think so. It's a great house…Grandma had a spa put in a couple of years ago…sauna, hot tub…and it has a swimming pool. So you'll have to come and stay with me."

"A vacation without leaving Boston…"

"And you won't have to pay for a hotel…"

Lily grinned. "I could get into that. What about everything else?"

"Grandma had a financial guy that managed most of her money. A Mr. Trent Acker. He did a really good job for Grandma, so right now, I'm letting him handle things until I can get a firm grip on it, but I'm having my financial planner review what Acker's doing just to be sure."

"Good idea. What about the other_ things_?"

"Other _things_? Lily, what else is there….the house, the money…what else have I overlooked?"

"These." Lily shoved six pieces of pink paper into her hands. Phone messages Emmy had intercepted while Jordan was in autopsy.

Jordan fanned through the messages…the names were familiar…but she knew none of these people. "What…." she begin to question.

"Four of the most eligible men in Boston called to talk to you while you were in autopsy with Nigel. Four. One called three times. They all want to take you out this weekend…seems you've become Miss Popular now that your bank account has been pumped up by several….million."

Jordan groaned. This was a side effect of becoming a heiress she hadn't imagined. "I don't want to go out with any of these guys…I mean I don't even know them…"

"But they want to get to know you."

"And that's because suddenly I have money..."

Lily carefully regarded her friend for a moment. "Or it could be because they didn't know about you before…and now that your name's been bandied about the social register in the _Boston Herald_, they'd like a chance to get to know you."

"But…"

Lily sighed and looked at Jordan with concern. "But they're not Woody. I know, Jordan. They're not. But in case you haven't noticed, Woody's not giving you the time of day now, much less filling any of your long and lonesome nights. And I'm not saying these guys will, either. I'm just saying, give them a fair chance. One date isn't going to hurt anything. It's not going to end the world and bring on an apocalypse."

Jordan flipped through the messages one more time. "I guess you're right."

"I know I am."

"Alright. I'll start with the guy that called first…and see where that takes me."

Lily stood up and grinned. "And hopefully that is out to dinner and maybe some dancing. You need some fun, Jordan."

_Money can't buy me love, but maybe it can buy me a little happiness,_ Jordan thought as she dialed the first number. "Hello…this is Jordan Cavanaugh. I'm returning a Mr. Steve Asbury's phone call…."


	2. One Thing Money Can’t Change

**Chapter Two**

**One Thing Money Can't Change**

Things would change now that she had money. He'd bet on it.

Things…and her. She would change as well. _No one could inherit that much money and not change, _Woody thought, sitting in his office chair and staring out the window. He wasn't sure how or when, but Jordan _would_ change.

She would probably start subtly at first. New haircut…better clothes…but that would escalate. Soon her old, water-logged El Camino would be destined for the junk heap and he would wager she'd either buy some foreign sports car or one of those designer Hummers.

Not to mention where she lived. He had already overheard Lily telling Bug and Nigel that Jordan was giving up her Pearle Street apartment and moving into her grandmother's old house. Well…old _mansion_ was more like it.

He knew that for a fact. He had ridden past the estate at lunch time just to see if there was a moving van in front of it yet. He wasn't very successful. The house stood hundreds of feet from the road, fronted by a fence and trees and a gate that wasn't yielding even to his detective's badge. The guy that answered the intercom said that Ms. Cavanaugh wasn't at home yet and they anticipated her arrival sometime in the next coming weeks.

Damn it. She would have a butler. And a maid.

And certain more than he ever hoped to give her on his detective's salary. When they had worked things out between them, the best he could possibly offer her was a Cape Cod in some nameless, faceless suburb. If they were lucky, the housing development would have a pool.

Woody winced inwardly and awkwardly stood up. He had been sitting far too long and his back was telling him that in no uncertain terms. Despite the successful surgeries and therapy, there were days when his back and legs bothered him tremendously. Days that were particularly wet and cold, days when he sat too long in one position, or days he was on his feet for far too many hours. The doctors had promised him it would get better and eventually go away. And it was…gradually. Just not fast enough for him.

He was still a cripple in some ways. Jordan should never have to put up with that. Especially now. He turned to put on his coat and gathered his briefcase and papers. The truth was that despite everything, he still loved her.

But sometimes love just wasn't enough for a relationship to blossom and then bloom. They had danced around each other for too long…she pushed him away the he pushed her away…and just when Jordan had gotten over the hurt of his rejection and they were making progress, what does he do? Gets cold feet and tell her they need to take it slow and make sure this was really right between them.

Woody didn't know anything could be more right than that one night at the Lucy Carver Inn. Give and take and communication in a relationship were well and good….and needed, he believed. But a night of hot sex could go a long way in establishing all three.

And that night was the best sex he could ever remember. Mind-blowing, hot, feel-it-throbbing-all-the-way-to-your-gums sex.

Instead of thanking the powers that be that it had finally happened between them, he gets scared that she'll run from him again. So in an effort to save his male pride, he pushed her away first. _I don't want to be the rebound guy_, he told her.

In desperation, he had begun dating…Santana, Lu, Annie…a few others. He knew Jordan was aware of it. She had seen him out with Lu. The hurt on Jordan's face had haunted him for days. She didn't understand him or his reasoning. _Let's take things slow…_the look on her face after he had said that told him her thoughts plainly: Fuck you. Fuck slow.

But in a way, his actions made sense. Perfectly awful, tragically real sense. Get over her before she hurts you again. Move on. Jordan will never be serious about anyone and any relationship. It's better to just keep moving and just remember that one night at the Lucy Carver Inn. It may hurt now, but it will get better. Hell, one day he might even laugh over it.

Maybe they both would…years from now.

Many years from now.

Okay, maybe never.

However, it all could be a moot point. The money…the money would make her change. She might not even want him any longer…she may think she's too good for him now. He had endured enough pain and rejection in his life. No, it was better this way. Just keep pushing her away and moving ahead with his own life.

* * *

"You got that autopsy report on Charles Van Guard complete yet?" Woody asked, walking into Jordan's office. He didn't bother to knock.

"Almost. I'm waiting on the final tox screens to come back."

Woody stifled an impatient sigh. "The man was not drugged, Jordan. Nor was he pushed. He simply had the misfortune of slipping on a patch of ice and falling off the train platform."

"Yeah, well, that's what they all say. Personally, I'd rather be given the truth forensically. It stands up better in a court of law, you know?"

"Look…I just need to get this case closed and off my desk. I have twenty-five more just like it staring at me."

"You'll have your report when I get my tox screen," Jordan replied, her eyes taking in his form. He had been cold to her in the past, ever since his decision to take their relationship slowly. And the temperature in the room was getting chillier by the minute as they stared each other down. Jordan silently wondered just what the hell had happened between them. For a while they were so close they could feel each other's heartbeat across the room.

Now they were barely strangers.

Catching her throat growing tight, she stood and walked around the corner of her desk, propping against it…within inches of him. "What happened this time, Woody?" she softly asked.

"I don't know what you mean.."

"Tell me another one, Farm Boy. On my birthday, after you thought I turned down your ring, you told me we were better off as friends. But then you had no clue that the reason I was calling you was to ask you if I could change my mind…and take the ring. You know now, but you didn't know then. And at the hospital, after Riggs shot you, you pushed me away when I finally said the words you told me you had been wanting to hear – that I loved you and couldn't imagine my life without you. And now…when I'm ready to go forward with the relationship, you decide we need to slow it down. Every time I'm ready…and you get cold feet. Why?'

"We….we just aren't suited for each other, Jordan."

She eyed him up and down, giving Woody the distinct feeling she was undressing him with her eyes. "That night at the Lucy Carver Inn proves otherwise."

"That was just sex."

Jordan raised her eyebrow. "Really? Just sex?"

"Yeah."

"You sure?"

Woody nodded. "And besides, anything between us would be out of the question now, your heiress…"

Jordan let out a hissing sigh. "Money. So it all comes back to that. You think I'll change…become something and someone else because my grandmother left me her estate?"

"I've seen less money change lesser people."

"And they weren't me. I'm not going to change."

"Time will tell, Jordan. Look, I gotta be going. Give me a call when the report is ready, okay?" With that Woody turned sharply on his heel and strode out of her office, eating up the ground with his quick, long strides.

"Sure will, your high assiness…." Jordan replied before sitting down her couch and covering her face with her hands.

So Woody still thought she would change because of the money. She hadn't. She still reported to work everyday. She didn't go out much…her life really hadn't changed other than the fact that she was moving into her grandmother's house this weekend.

Well, that wasn't quite the whole truth. She did go out with Steve. She had listened to Lily and called Steve back. They went to dinner. He turned out to be a very nice looking, interesting man…for an investment banker. His talk about mutual funds and 400 accounts went right over her head, but he loved to run, like she did, and he played the guitar, too…albeit an electric one.

He was a nice guy.

He just didn't have those piercing blue eyes and an awful taste in ties.

He wasn't Woody.

And neither was Neil or Todd or Patrick….the other guys that had left messages with Emmy a few weeks ago. They were all super-nice gentlemen who sincerely seemed to want to spend time with her. They were all nice looking…generous….sweet.

But they weren't Woody.

Funny how a cop from Wisconsin could upset her dating psyche so…but she knew what was wrong. She loved Woody.

She didn't love any of these other guys.

However, if Woody had sailed away from her port with no ticket to return, the best thing she could do for herself and for him was to forget what they had in the past and look to her future, possibly with Steve or Neil or Todd or Patrick.

Money might change a lot of things, but not one fact…

She still loved him. Even though he acted like an ass, she still wanted to be his.


	3. It Hurts too Much to be Your Friend

**Chapter Three**

**It Hurts too Much to be Your Friend**

It was supposed to be the best of both worlds. A gala charity event. A time and place where the moneyed citizenry of Boston could assuage their conscious by donating funds to a worthy charity – The Red Cross.

Hence the name, the Red and White Ball. At $500 a plate, plus other pledges given by the attendees, the local Red Cross could raise a huge chunk of their operating budget in just one night, while the wealthy patrons could eat, hobnob, and dance the night away. A good time would be had by all.

Except for Jordan. She hated such events. Not that she hated the Red Cross…no, not by a far cry. But she would have been far happier sending in her check and sitting at home during the event, watching the BoSox beat the Yankees.

Fat chance.

Jordan had quickly learned that being her grandmother's sole heir came with a number of responsibilities she hadn't bargained for. And that included her presence at the same charity events that Margaret used to attend. She sighed as she sat back down at her table after another dance with Neil. "Can I get you another drink?" he politely asked.

"That would be great," Jordan answered with far more enthusiasm than she felt.

"What'll it be?"

She wanted to say a Guinness so badly it hurt. Instead she put on what she now considered her most charming smile and said, "Green apple martini."

"You got it. I'll be right back." Neil breezed off to fetch the required beverages, leaving Jordan to discreetly cross her left foot over her right knee and rub her arch under the table. Dancing with Neil was hard enough…he couldn't lead worth a damn…and in four-inch heels, it was miserable. She idly wondered if Garret had ever done an autopsy on anyone who had died from ill-fitting footwear.

"Here you are," Neil said, returning with her requested drink. "This should keep you busy for a while."

"Thanks." She flashed the charming smile again.

"Say, Jordan, Bill Haskins is at the bar … you know the attorney from Haskins, Brower, and Associates?"

Jordan nodded, vaguely aware she had been introduced to both partners at some dinner she had attended a month or more ago.

"He wanted to know if you could spare me for a minute to go over the Brown real estate deal…"

"Sure. Go ahead, Neil."

"You'll be okay by yourself?"

"I'll be fine. Go. I need to give my feet a rest anyway." Charming smile again.

"I'll be right back."

"Take your time…besides security is tighter than Christmas around here."

As Neil ambled off again in the direction of the bar, Jordan sank further down in her seat, plotting if there was anyway she could make a polite get away before midnight. A quick glance at her watch told her it was only ten…to leave before midnight for any other reason than the fact she was dying would be considered down right rude. She gave the room a once over just to see if there was anyone there she recognized well enough to start a conversation with while waiting on Neil…an intelligent conversation. These functions bored her out of her mind. How her grandmother, who Jordan always felt was an intelligent woman, put up with these things, she'd never know.

Then a familiar dark suit caught her eye. _Woody_…She thought she may have seen him once or twice, in the shadows when Neil and she came in tonight. But she wasn't sure. She thought it might have been her overheated lust taking control again.

However, he was there, working security. _Damn, he looks good in a formal suit,_ she thought taking in his broad shoulders from across the room, nearly hungry for just a glimpse of him. She hadn't seen him in weeks. He was deliberately avoiding her, and she knew it. Jordan hadn't answered any of his homicides recently … and he never called.

_This will never do_, she thought, sliding her chair out and getting up. _If I stay in this room, all I'll end up doing is looking at him…and that will just make things worse for me tonight…and in the future. I need to get away…at least for a few minutes. _A quick look at the bar told her Neil was still there, deep in conversation with Bill Haskins. But it was a warm, spring night in Boston, and the doors were open onto the patio off the ballroom. Picking up her martini, she slowly and gracefully made her way across the room and through a set of the double open doors and onto the patio…on the opposite side of the room from Woody. She leaned against the railing and took in the night sky.

It was a beautiful night. Nearly perfect. Stars and martinis. Men in tuxes. Good music. She should be having the time of her life…

"I though I saw you come out here," a voice from behind her called.

Puzzled, Jordan paused a minute. She couldn't place the voice. Slowly she turned around. Joseph Brower. Bill Haskin's associate. "Mr. Brower," she returned politely. "Nice to see you again."

"Nice to see you, too, Dr. Cavanaugh. Did you get moved into your grandmother's house?"

Jordan nodded, noting that the man was moving closer to her. Something about the man made the fine hairs on the back of her neck stand straight up at attention. "Yes, I did."

"Good…are you finding your way around okay?"

"It's taken some getting used to, but yes."

He was beside of her then….slowly letting one fingertip trail up her arm. "So…why'd young Neil leave you all by yourself?"

Jordan backed away, making his hand drop to his side. "Neil is talking to your partner about the Brown real estate contract. I imagine you need to be in on that conversation. They're at the bar."

"Really? I let Bill handle most of the real estate deals. He's got a flair for that. But if he and Neil are at the bar, they're going to be gone for quite some time, Dr. Cavanaugh." Joseph closed the distance between them again.

Jordan cursed herself under her breath. She thought once she clued Brower in on the conversation about the multi-million dollar Brown deal, Joseph would high tail it off the patio and into the bar, leaving her in blessed solitude.

No such luck.

The only thing Joseph seemed interesting in pursuing was her…which at another time she might be flattered by. But Mr. Brower had a Mrs. Brower and Jordan wanted no part of him.

"It's been nice seeing you again, Joseph, but I really need to be getting back to my table," Jordan turned to leave after flashing him the charming smile again, only to feel his hand on her arm.

"Stay Dr. Cavanaugh. I have a feeling we have a lot in common…may I call you Jordan?"

"No…and I have to be getting back." She attempted to pull her arm from his grip, only to feel his fingers tightened around her. "Stop…you're hurting me…" she whispered.

"Stop resisting and I'll stop hurting," he murmured, pulling her close and whispering in her ear.

"No…stop…" She felt his other hand slide up her other arm and pull the strap down on her dress. "Mr. Brower…" She begin to push against him.

"I believe Dr. Cavanaugh said to stop," a cold voice from behind Jordan said.

_Woody._

"This is none of your business," Joseph said, not loosening his hold on Jordan.

"I think it is," Woody countered.

"No, it's not. Go on or I'll report you to the head of security."

Jordan noted with satisfaction that anger glinted in Woody's blue eyes. "I don't think so," Woody replied softly. A person who didn't know the detective well wouldn't have thought his quiet reply to be the least bit threatening.

But Jordan recognized the repressed anger behind it. She smiled inwardly.

"Really?" Brower arched an eyebrow.

"I am security," Woody answered, and flashed his badge, "and Boston PD. Please remove your hands from Dr. Cavanaugh, or I'll be forced to take you in for assault."

"You wouldn't," Brower stuttered.

"Just try me."

"This is just a misunderstanding….isn't that right, Jordan?" Brower stuttered again

Jordan said nothing, but just kept looking at Woody.

"Jordan?" Brower continued. Finding that he was getting no help on her part, he abruptly let her go…so quick and sudden that she nearly fell. He stomped off in the direction of the bar.

Jordan caught herself, but found that Woody had caught her, too….his arm around her waist. For a minute she heaved a sigh of relief…and longing. It didn't take much for her to remember how good his arms felt.

"Are you happy with yourself?" The sharp tone of his voice brought her back to reality.

"What?"

"I mean you come out here by yourself, on the patio…in that dress."

Jordan looked down at her black dress … tiny straps, but a modest neckline. Sure it plunged a little in back and had a slit up the side, but it wasn't anything too showy. There were other women in the ballroom that had on a lot less. "What's the matter with it?"

"It shows a lot of skin. That, coupled with the fact that you've been drinking and your came out here alone on the patio was an open invitation to any man like Brower."

"I beg your pardon…"

"It was. What would you have done if I hadn't shown up?"

Whether it was his tone, or the stress of a long hard week, or just the fact that now she felt she needed to go home and take a shower, Jordan felt her anger rise. "I would have taken care of myself. Just like I have always done." _Just like I always will do…._

Woody snorted. "You need to go back inside and cuddle up to your rich boyfriend, Jo. Before something else happens to you."

The rising anger she felt now spilled over from feelings to words. "You have absolutely no right…no right at all, Woody, telling me how to live my life. What I do now is my business….who I spend my free time with….what I do…where I go…or how I conduct myself. You're the one who said you wanted our relationship to slow down…and it did. And now it's over. We work together and that's it. That's all it ever will be, thanks to you. If you don't like it, it's your fault. I'm over it. I've moved on. If you're angry at anyone, be angry at yourself. You walked out on someone that loved you with her whole heart. And that doesn't come along but maybe once in a lifetime." Jordan turned to walk back in the ballroom, but turned and said over her shoulder. "I'm not your responsibility, Woody. Maybe once I was, but I can take care of myself. I did for years before I met you. I can do it again now."

* * *

She was long gone by the time he had pulled himself together and walked back into the ballroom. Her place at the table was empty and her purse was missing.

Jordan had left the building.

Woody hung his head and slowly circled the room, sidling out the front doors in the vain hope that he could catch her as she and Neil drove off.

No such luck.

The lady had left. Later Woody would find out that she feigned a headache and had left in her own car, leaving Neil at the bar to continue his discussion with Bill Haskins about the Brown real estate deal. Impatiently, Woody glanced at his watch. A little after eleven. This shindig would be over with at midnight and then he would do what he needed to do.

Go apologize to Jordan. Try to make amends…somehow someway.

* * *

By the time twelve-thirty rolled around, Woody found himself pointing his old Chevelle towards Beacon Hill, hoping to catch a glimpse of a light on in the massive house. He lucked out. There were a few lights on in the downstairs. Swallowing his pride and pumping up his courage, he mounted the steps and rang the bell, fully expecting a butler to open the door.

Instead, Jordan herself opened it, after checking the peephole. "Woody?"

The tone of that one word said it all. _What are you doing here? What else have you got to say? Won't you just please leave me alone?_

"Can I come in, Jo? I know it's late and I won't take long…I know we both have work tomorrow."

"What else do you need to say? To chastise me on my sleeping attire? To nose around and see if I'm sleeping alone?"

Woody shook his head. "No…I need to apologize, Jo. Please…can I come in? It's freezing out here…" The shiver he gave was at least half-real.

Warily looking him over, but noticing his shiver, Jordan pushed the door open for him and walked ahead, leaving him to come in and close it behind her. "Come in, then. Would you like some hot chocolate?"

"No…thanks." For some reason he was having a hard time keeping up with her. She turned to the left…obviously some kind of living room. Woody believed his grandmother would have called it the parlor. "Nice place," he commented, keeping his tone light.

"Thanks. Now why are you here, Woody?"

_Nothing like cutting to the chase…_ "I would like to apologize for what I said tonight, Jordan. It was uncalled for. You were right. What you do…where you go…who you spend time with…it's none of my business now."

"That's right."

Woody felt his throat grow uncomfortably tight at her response. – which was cold and still filled with anger. "But I was hoping…I mean, we still work together….I was hoping we could still be …" his voice faltered because her eyes were growing angrier by the minute… "friends." He finished softly.

Jordan eyed him up and down…her expression told him that she was tired of him playing the friends card again….but was still mulling the prospect over in her mind.

"No," she finally said, quietly.

"N…no?"

"No."

"Why?"

"I can't be your friend any longer, Woody."

Of all the words that had ever come out of her mouth….and all the words that ever might, Woody would have bet his soul that Jordan would never say those…words that would sever their friendship.

Words that would cast them apart…as if they no longer even knew each other.

"But Jordan…why?"

Jordan felt the tears come long before they reached her eyes…the all-too-familiar burning in her throat, the tightness as if her air was being cut off…then finally the warm, wetness behind her eyelids. "Because," she began and then took a deep breath to steady her voice. _Because it's hard enough being in the same room with you, knowing how much I love you and that you've rejected me…because I love you and I know I'll never have you…that our relationship will always be too slow or too fast…just too damned imperfect for you to accept…that I'm too damned imperfect for you to accept…_ "Because it's over, Woody. Whatever we had or didn't have, it's over. And it was over long before my grandmother left me her money…It's just time for both of us to let go of the past and move on."

"So we can't even be friends?"

"Not right now. Maybe one day. But right now, it just hurts too much."

Woody sighed and stuck his hands in his pockets. "You're sure?" he quietly asked.

Jordan nodded. "I just can't handle getting my emotions stirred up again and then have you reject me."

"But Jordan…"

"You've done it three times, Woody. Three."

"So the three strikes rule applies to us, too."

"Hey…it works for baseball…" she attempted a grin, but failed miserably. "Come on. I'll walk you to the door."

The walk back down the hall seemed endless and he paused before Jordan showed him out. "If you need anything…anything at all…" It was just hitting him. She had finally rejected him…shut the door on any type of relationship with him … at least in the foreseeable future. His life would have to go on without her.

"I'm fine, Woody." She paused before she shut the door.

"Well…then…good night, Jordan."

"Good-bye, Woody." The big door shut firmly and the lock clicked.

"Good-bye, Jordan," he whispered into the cold, night air.


	4. What We Don’t Want to Change

**Chapter Four**

**What We Don't Want to Change**

Charles Van Guard.

The case that was seemingly so open and shut….man slips on train platform, falls in front of train. Dies. A horrible, awful accident, but just that, right? An accident.

Not according to the tox reports Jordan was finally holding in her hand. Mr. Van Guard had enough Phenobarbital in his system to bring down an elephant. So either it was a suicide…or something more sinister.

Jordan read back over the reports with a jaded eye. She knew that in the past she had been accused of being a conspiracy theorist, by both Woody and Garret. But what was in black and white in these reports didn't lie. It was no accident that Van Guard fell off the platform. He simply had too much of the drug in his system to stand up. So either he wanted to die or he was murdered. She sighed when she thought of the repercussions of either.

But her work with this case, for the most part was done. She needed to give these reports to Woody and let him be the detective. _Let him do his job_, her conscience prodded. _That's all you two can have these days anyway is that professional relationship. You've made up your mind and it's a good decision. The dance has got to stop. No, it has stopped. You're at a new place in your life. A good place. Even if Woody thinks the money has changed you._ Sighing she flipped open her cell phone and punched one on speed dial…his work number. It rang three times and rolled over into voice mail. "You have reached the voice mailbox of Detective Woody Hoyt…."

Jordan pressed the disconnect number with disgust. She was ready to get this case off her desk…the last open case she had with him. Hopefully, with a little maneuvering and switching off with Bug, she may be able to avoid him for a couple of weeks…buy her some time to make sure she could face him again with her resolve more firmly in tact. Hopefully her heart would have gotten the message by then that their relationship — or whatever it was —was over.

Gamely she called the front desk of the Nineteenth Precinct and asked the officer on duty if Woody was there. "Nope Dr, Cavanaugh. Hoyt clocked out about an hour ago. He's gone for the day."

Biting her lip, Jordan pushed two on speed dial…his apartment. Voice mail again. "Hi, this is Woody. If you get this message, you know what to do…"

_Yeah, I know what to do…_ Jordan flipped her phone shut and weighed the possibilities. She could wait until tomorrow. Call him first thing in the morning and let him know what she found and lob the ball firmly in his court. Clear her desk of this case and move on.

Or she could take care of business tonight and start tomorrow with a completely clean slate. Take the file by his apartment and slide it under the door since he wasn't home.

Or course there was that risk of seeing him there -- that he would be home by the time she arrived. _Nah…_ she thought. _If he clocked out an hour ago and still isn't home, my guess is that he's out for the evening…maybe with Lu…or with some of the guys at a bar watching the game. And even if he is home by now, you don't have to go in. Knock on the door, hand him the file, give him a brief explanation and get the hell out of there. Your heart can handle that, can't it Cavanaugh?_

The flutter in her chest gave her some doubts.

Still….starting tomorrow as a clean break sounded really nice.

Without waiting for any more thoughts the contrary, she grabbed her keys and the file. One quick trip by his apartment and then she was heading home to a nice, hot shower. And a cold beer. God knows after today she deserved it.

* * *

Woody crammed the vacuum cleaner back in the tiny utility closet in his kitchen. After work he had debated on going out with some fellow officers to O'Malley's to watch the game. But honestly, the game, even with the temptation of cold beer, wasn't enough to excite him. He was still reeling from what Jordan had told him a week ago. _Good bye._

There was more than just the surface significance to those two words and he knew it. In her mind, she had relegated _them_ to something in her past. Something that was over. Something that she needed to put behind her and move on.

"_I can't be your friend any longer, Woody. Not right now. Maybe one day. But right now, it just hurts too much."_

He knew he had only himself to blame. He had been ambiguous about their relationship for too long. After years of allowing Jordan to push him away, it was ironic that just when she was ready to let him in, he did the same thing to her. Pushed her away. Told her that he didn't need her.

Then he slept with her at the Lucy Carver Inn.

And afterwards, even after she had talked with Pollack, told her that he didn't want to be the rebound guy.

Jordan wasn't the type of woman to give her heart away easily and not without a great deal of thought beforehand.

He refused what she offered and now she was trying to move on…move past four, long, wasted years and all the hurt that they both had inflicted on each other.

Emotions can be a bitch. Dealing with them was even bitchier. So when the guys asked him if he wanted to go out tonight, he could honestly say he didn't feel like it. All he had wanted to do was retreat to his apartment and hide. So he had come home, threw a load of clothes in the washer and ran the vacuum, thinking that mindless activity might help him work off some energy and at least give him something to do while he thought things through.

Finally, getting the vacuum back in the closet, he slammed it shut and heaved a sigh. At least the apartment was clean now. He glanced around. The caller ID light was blinking. Evidently his phone rang while he was vacuuming and he didn't hear it. Reaching over, he pressed the button to see who phoned. She had called, but left no message. Puzzled, he picked up the phone to call her back with there was a knock at the door. Setting the phone back on its base, he opened the door.

"Jordan…"

Jordan's face paled. She honestly had assumed he wasn't at home. "Hi…" she began hesitantly.

"Come in." Woody pushed the door open a little wider.

_Oh Jesus…_ "I'm sorry….I can't….I just stopped by to give you these final tox reports on Charles Van Guard…" She held the file out to him with a soft smile on her face. She would show him she could at least be civil.

Woody took the file and flipped it open. "Phenobarbital?"

She nodded. "So…"

Woody turned and walked back into his apartment, leaving the door open and her standing in the doorway. "Come in, Jordan. Let me read this and make sure I have the story straight."

_Come in? I don't want to come in…_ "No… I think it's pretty much self-explanatory. I really have to be going."

"This won't take but a minute and I promise I won't make you late for Neil."

"Neil?"

"You're in a hurry to leave," he looked up at her from the tox report. "I assumed you have a date."

Jordan shook her head. "No. Just want to get home."

"Then come in and shut the door. I promise I won't keep you long. Scout's honor." He grinned…that adorable little-boy grin she had always had such a hard time resisting.

"You weren't a boy scout," she responded, coming in and shutting the door behind her, trying to ignore the full set of warning bells going off in the back of her mind.

"Details, details…" He paused for a moment, the results of the tox screen finally weighing in fully. "So Van Guard either committed suicide or was murdered…" he let out a low whistle. "So much for my man-meets-train theory."

"Yeah…but my job here is done. Now it's up to you, detective, to figure out which one it is."

Woody nodded, his nose still buried in the tox report. He walked over to the kitchen area and opened the refrigerator. "Beer?"

"No, no…I really have to be going…."

"Wait…what does this mean?" He pointed to a section of the tox report.

"What does it say?"

"Something about levels…hell, I don't know…you're the ME. Tell me what it means."

Jordan slowly walked over to where he was at, all the while asking herself why didn't she just wait until tomorrow and hand the report off to him at the precinct. "That?" she asked.

"Yeah."

"That indicates how much he had in his system…basically enough to bring down an elephant."

"Would a man knowingly ingest that amount if he was going to kill himself?"

"I think the real question is how did the man get that amount of Phenobarbital? What were his medical connections? And if he had none, then murder becomes a more likely scenario."

Jordan glanced up from the report and where Woody was pointing to look him in the eyes. She meant to say now it was time for him to go to work as a detective…to try to figure the whole thing out. But somehow the words got tangled on her tongue. _So this is how it's going to be…just cases between us from now on…_

The flicker in his eyes told her he was thinking the same thing.

_It's better this way…for both of us_.

Woody sat the file on the counter.

_This is the only way for both of us to move on…_

He reached for her.

_No…_

"Something just don't change, do they, Jo? No matter how hard we fight them…or how much we wish they would be different…" One hand stayed at her waist and the other slid up her back to pull her to him. "They just don't change."

"They need to," Jordan murmured back, feeling like a deer caught in the headlights of his eyes. "They've got to."

"Why?"

"We can't do this…or go there, Woody. It's not good for either one of us. It's over."

Woody let his lips lightly brush hers. "You're right. It probably should be over…but every time we're together like this, I forget what should be…and what is right. All I can think about is the Lucy Carver Inn….and this…"

His lips claimed hers then…first demanding, nearly ruthless in their assault on her senses, then turning softer and more coaxing when he realized she wasn't fighting him…instead, even though all the warning bells were going off in full alarm in her head and her mind was screaming for her to run, her arms wrapped themselves around his neck and she melted into him.

The coaxing lips persuaded hers to open, giving him full access to her mouth…and suddenly the time and place they were at melted away. Jordan felt him slip her coat from her shoulders. Woody felt her questing fingers find the buttons on his shirt.

Two people that have been in love and made love have little trouble re-establishing moot points. As his kisses quickened and then moved over her face, Jordan found herself having difficulty breathing, much less thinking coherently. The moot point that was re-establishing itself in her mind was that she wanted to be in his arms again.

Even though everything in her knew it was wrong. Wrong time. Wrong place. Wrong man.

But she had been wrong before and lived through it. It would end again. She knew that. But at least she'd have one more memory.

And this time with no weird murder mystery between them.

So when Woody ran his hands under her shirt, rediscovering his already claimed territory, she swallowed a moan and pressed her breast closer in his hand.

Her shirt came off seconds later. Her bra wasn't long behind. A trail of kisses across her jaw line, down the column of her neck, and a soft lick to the hollow of her throat made her catch her breath.

When he leaned her back against the counter and took one stiff peak in his mouth, she got her breath back, but only to let out a sound of pure gratification as familiar ripples of pleasure shot through her.

That broke him. With a ragged sound, he pulled her into his arms and headed her towards his bedroom.

And to Jordan's chagrin, even though her mind was screaming at her to stop, her body was blocking the signals. It wanted him. Badly. Now. No matter what the price was she had to pay.

The bed soon became a mass of tangled sheets as she willingly yielded to him…his hands moving over her, eliciting responses out of her that made the night at the Lucy Carver Inn pale in comparison. All the pent-up frustration, and masked longing coming out. "Woody," she heard herself beg, "please…."

He chuckled against her lips. "Now?"

Wordlessly she nodded and felt him urge her legs around his waist before he slipped slowly inside of her, letting her feel every inch, every sensation before he started moving in her.

He took his time and made her take hers, too, until she was nearly cried for release.

And when it came, she felt as if she had been swept away by a tidal wave.

Woody felt her clinch and then shudder around him, greedily drinking in her sigh of satisfaction. He smugly smiled to himself. _Some things not only won't change, some things we don't want to change, no matter what we tell ourselves and each other. _He curled her body – now completely limp and relaxed – around his and pulled thesheet up over both of them. They needed to do some sorting out, he was sure, his fuzzy brain was telling him. But that could wait until in the morning, when their minds and logic was clearer.


	5. Dazed and Confused

**Chapter Five**

**Dazed and Confused**

The pain in his back woke him up…not the warm, willing, sleeping woman beside him.

Not a good sign.

After a night of even-better-sex-than-we-had-at-the-Lucy-Carver-Inn sex, pain should have been the furthest thing from his mind and body.

But it wasn't. Pain shot down both legs and Woody grimaced against the sensations. Until he felt her slight weight move against him and heard her sigh contentedly in her sleep. The grimace melted into a very smug, masculine grin.

Unlike the night at the Lucy Carver Inn, Woody knew that he didn't have to be at work in the morning until after lunch. And if Jordan blew intoher office late, Garret wouldn't raise an eyebrow after all the hours she had logged while the chief ME was getting sober. So Woody had taken his time with her…and used it well. After their first round of love making, he had spooned her against him, much like that night at the Inn, and let her rest.

But not for long.

After he had recovered, his hands began a gentle exploration of her back, massaging the kinks out of her muscles. His reward was feeing her relax completely against him. "Roll over on your tummy and I'll rub your back," he murmured against her ear.

He didn't have to ask twice.

Jordan immediately turned on her stomach and Woody continued to rub her back in easy but firm strokes, and if possible, felt her relax even more.

She offered no protest when his lips followed his hands…not even when they reached the areas he knew were ticklish. But her quickened breathing assured him that she was awake…fully awake. He ran his hands lightly over her bottom and slid one hand down her left thigh, pulling her leg up, bending it at the knee. Then he slid the same hand up her right leg, finding the sensitive nub at her center. "Woody…" her breathless voice mirrored slight confusion and longing at the same time.

"Shh…." He ran a trail of kisses from the base of her spine to her jaw. "Just lie still…" He slowly slid a finger into her.

Her breath hitched and his name escaped her lips again, this time as a low moan. Jordan tried to roll over to face him, but found his body was blocking her. She shut her eyes in frustration, but soon found herself getting lost in the feelings and emotions again of last night…and this time the warning bells weren't going off. Instead, as his hand found her breast one more time, she again found herself yielding to him when he moved over her and loved her once more.

* * *

Her cell phone's alarm jarred her awake…it was somewhere in the kitchen, long discarded with the trail of clothes that led from the bedroom to the counter. Groggily she sat up, nudging Woody aside and grabbing the sheet to cover her.

"It'll quit in a minute," he murmured.

"I need to find it. I've got to get to work."

"You know Garret will cut you some slack, after all the hours you put in while he was at rehab."

Jordan nodded, but was already pulling on her clothes. "I know, but I'll be late anyway…I'll have to go home and change."

"Can't you have that fancy-assed butler of yours bring you some clothes by here?"

Jordan inwardly frowned. Woody hadn't referred to her recent change in financial status the entire night. Why bring it up now? "Who? Harris?"

"Whatever his name is…" Woody turned over and glared at her now-fully dressed state. He much preferred her the other way…naked and warm in his arms…although for the life of him he couldn't tell what last night meant to her. The early morning light made her expression difficult to read.

"Harris isn't on duty everyday. With just me at the house, there's no need to have someone around all the time. Besides, I'm pretty independent."

"You're there in that big house all by yourself?"

"Not all the time. Harris is there a few days during the week and Millie, the housekeeper, is there for only a half a day about five days a week. I don't entertain like Grandmother used to so I don't need them full time…and I can cook my own dinner, so…" Jordan paused as she looked around for her other shoe, catching the look in his eye. "I guess we need to talk," she finished softly.

"About what?" Woody rolled out of bed and reached for his boxers, more than a little frustrated at her apparent need to leave and go to work."Last time we did this and talked, it all blew up in our face."

"What are you saying?" Jordan felt her heart plummet to the bottoms of her Sketchers.

Woody slid his boxers on and turned to face her. "You've heard the expression, 'fatal attraction'?"

Jordan nodded.

"I think that's what we've got a case of here. Anytime we can get each other into bed, it's awesome. Magic. Five stars. Fireworks. But outside of bed, things just kind of fall apart."

"So last night…"

"Was good for both of us. You have to admit that." His self-satisfied grin told her he had not forgotten any of her responses to him. Or his to her.

"That's it?" Jordan felt her throat tighten and tears began to form on the horizon.

"I tell you what I think…I think in one aspect you're right. We do need to move on…but I swear, anytime we're remotely alone and can get each other into bed…damn…."

"You son-of-bitch…"

"I've been called worse." Woody slid his jeans on and fastened them. "And I assure you, I'm every one of those things. But you have to admit, it's better this way. We blow off a little left over lust every once in a while and no one gets hurt. We know which buttons to push in each other and we both leave satisfied. What harm is there in that?"

"What harm? What about what we feel? What I feel?"

"You said it yourself, Jordan. We both need to move on….maybe we can now."

"But what if…."

"What if you've changed your mind?"

Jordan nodded, the lump in her throat growing larger by the minute.

Woody walked out of the bedroom to the kitchen to retrieve his shirt. "I'd say it was too late."

* * *

The stumble was what alarmed Woody the most.

It wasn't a stumble at a crime scene, where the terrain could be uneven. It wasn't a stumble on the basketball court, where the guys were known to play rough. It wasn't a stumble on the stairs or while he was out running.

It was a stumble across the smooth, hardwood floors of his apartment after Jordan left that morning. His right foot wouldn't move. And the pain that started shooting down his legs earlier was now becoming unbearable. Making his way carefully across the room, he stopped at his desk and opened the lower left drawer, pulling out a huge sheaf of papers…medical papers that the doctors had given him when he was released from the hospital after the Riggs shooting. Carefully, he sifted through any follow-up symptoms he might have. Finally, his brow creased with worry and biting his lip against the pain, he picked up the phone and called his surgeon.

After describing his symptoms to the nurse he waited. The doctor wanted to see him immediately.

* * *

It was an all-too familiar setting, Boston General. Jordan sighed as once again she found herself pacing the same waiting room she had over a year ago when she waited for Woody to come out of surgery from the Riggs shooting.

She had received the phone call from Woody's surgeon a few hours after she had finally gotten to work that morning. The unfamiliar number coming through on her cell phone caught her attention and she answered it immediately. She remembered the surgeon identifying himself and telling her that Woody was heading for emergency surgery even as they spoke. Something was shorting out his spinal column once again, and since it wasn't a bullet, the doctor couldn't be sure what was going on until he went in to see if there wasn't possible damage they had missed.

His situation wasn't life-threatening, but seeing as Woody still had Jordan listed as his next-of-kin, Dr. Roland thought Jordan should know….just in case anything went wrong.

_Just in case anything went wrong? _The thought flew through her mind as she grabbed her coat and told Garret what was happening. _Everything is going wrong…first last night, then this morning, and now this?_

_Did our making love cause this to happen?_ Guilt began to play with her conscience. They had been more active last night than they were at the Lucy Carver Inn.

_And why does he still have me listed as his next-of-kin? It's been longer than a year…he could have…should have…changed it by now._

_Unless he assumed there was no one else…_She chewed her bottom lip nervously, staring at the doors to the surgery unit, willing them to open.

"He'll be okay," Matt Seely said, catching the path of Jordan's eyes. Matt was Woody's partner now. After telling Garret what had happened, Jordan had phoned the red-headed detective and filled him in, letting him know what Dr. Roland said and asked that Matt be sure to tell the captain where Woody was.

To Jordan's surprise, Matt met her at the hospital. "Hoyt's my partner," was his simple explanation. "We've gotten close."

Jordan had nodded and welcomed the support.

"He's strong and in the best shape of anyone I know…" Steely continued.

"I know," she replied softly. "I just thought all this was over….behind him."

"We all did."

"But what…"

The doors to the surgery unit swung open then, interrupting the conversation as Dr. Roland walked through them. "Dr. Cavanaugh?"

"Here," Jordan said, turning away from Matt to face the surgeon.

"Nice to meet you," Dr. Roland said. He turned to Matt with a question on his face.

"This is Detective Seely, Woody's partner."

Dr. Roland nodded. "Then it's good you're both here. Woody's come through the surgery quite successfully. There was a blood clot that formed around the scar tissue and it was causing his already sensitive nerves to short circuit a little. We cleaned up the tissue and got rid of the blood clot…so his back and lower extremities are fine now…"

Jordan felt relief flood her body. But if last night had caused the blood clot… "Is there anyway to know how long the blood clot had been there?" she gamely asked.

"Not really. It may have formed over time…who knows? However, there are some other complications…"

Jordan swallowed hard. What else could have possibly gone wrong? "Complications?" she asked.

Dr. Roland nodded. "He doesn't remember anything."

"Anything?" Matt asked. "You mean about why he had the surgery?"

Shaking his head, Dr. Roland continued. "No. I mean he remembers _nothing_. Except his name is Woody Hoyt. Everything else has been wiped out."


	6. Someone to Watch Over Me

**Chapter Six**

**Someone to Watch Over Me**

"Okay, Cavanaugh…you…me…we need to talk," Seely said without knocking before he entered her office, slammed the door, and sat down on her couch. "Now," he finalized the situation.

"About what?" Jordan asked, hoping she was keeping an innocent look on her face.

"You know what. Or rather who."

Jordan didn't have to ask. The frustrated, over-worked, long-suffering look on Matt's face said it all.

Woody.

"It can't be that bad, Matt."

"Oh yeah?" the detective countered, sarcastically. "You obviously haven't seen him in awhile."

In truth, she hadn't seen Woody regularly in several weeks. After his surgery and his apparent memory loss, Jordan didn't know what to do or how to handle a situation she had never been in. She had hesitantly followed the surgeon to his hospital room. Woody had been sitting up in bed, resting from the operation.

"Detective Hoyt, this is Dr. Cavanaugh…she's listed as your next-of-kin," Dr. Roland had announced from the doorway.

"Hi," she had nearly stuttered…never more unsure of anything in her life. How do you re-introduce yourself to the man that you had made love with less than twelve hours ago…knowing that not only does he not remember anything about the event, he also doesn't remember anything about _you_. "I'm Jordan."

"You're my next-of-kin?" He looked at her with wide, blue eyes…confusion mirrored deep in them. Jordan had felt her heart break just a little for him.

"Yeah." She walked across the room and sat beside him on the bed, gently taking his hand.

"Are you my sister or something?"

She bit back a chuckle. Definitely not his sister….but she was "something." She just wasn't sure what. "No. I'm not your sister. We're friends…good friends. We work together. I'm an ME."

"And I'm a detective…or so Dr. Roland says." Woody ran his free hand down his face. "I don't mean to complain, but this is confusing as hell."

"I'm sure." Jordan tightened her hold on his hand. The last thing Woody needed to feel was alone. "But don't worry too much about it right now. Just concentrate on your back and it getting better. I'm sure your memory will return with some time."

Woody sighed and leaned back on the pillows. "That's what the doctor says…that maybe going back into surgery was just too much for me to handle…he said I got shot last year? On duty?"

The rise in his voice told Jordan he was asking a question. She hesitated for a moment, unsure of exactly how much to tell him…and how. "Yeah…you were. They had to take a bullet out of your back, but you were fine." She swallowed hard against her glaring omission of vital facts. There would be time to tell him everything, but now wasn't the appropriate one.

"Good," Woody closed his eyes and breathed a sigh of relief. He had been shot. He was fine. And evidently this Jordan knew more about the shooting than she was letting on. She just wasn't telling him right now.

But she would. He'd make sure of it.

"Can I come in?" A voice from the doorway asked.

"Sure." Jordan motioned for Matt to come inside. "Woody, this is Matt Seely. He's your partner at the Boston PD."

"How you feeling, Wood?" Matt asked from the other side of Woody's bed.

"They've got me too doped up to feel anything much right now. But Dr. Roland did say that I can go home in a couple of days if there are not anymore complications."

Matt and Jordan had both nodded, relieved at the good state of his health when they had been concerned about the worst.

"But I have a question," Woody had asked. "Where is home?"

* * *

That one simple question had sent both Jordan and Matt crashing back into reality. Woody had unexplained amnesia. Woody wasn't totally Woody any longer. He knew his name and that was about it. Gradual exposure to familiar places and items might prompt him to remember certain things, such as his job as a detective or where to find the supermarket, but the cold, hard truth was Woody might never regain his full memory. There might be large gaps in it for the rest of his life.

Woody knew this. Jordan and Matt did, too, along with a few chosen others the ME and the detective felt should know about Woody's situation. But as the day for hospital discharge grew closer, Dr. Roland and the hospital psychologist cautioned Jordan and Matt against leaving Woody alone. "Someone needs to stay with him…or he needs to stay with someone for a while. At least until we know he's going to be okay physically…that the surgery worked well and the scar tissue clean up was completely successful. If he fell, he wouldn't remember who to call or what hospital to go to…or the history behind his injuries. Mentally and emotionally, we're dealing with an entirely different set of issues."

And boy were they.

The hospital psychologist and Dr. Stiles had clued Jordan and Matt in on what to expect. The constant questions…the fact that they may tell him something and five minutes later he would forget it and ask the same question. "As he gets his memory back, this will improve. Until then," Dr. Stiles told Jordan and Matt, "it's kind of like dealing with a two-year old… 'why, why, why'. Think you two can handle it?"

"Do we have a choice?" Matt asked.

"Well…you do…I don't. I'm his next-of-kin," Jordan replied, dryly.

"Think of it as good, future training for when you have children," Stiles quipped, giving Jordan a wink on his way out the door. Jordan made a face behind his back. "So….." she had asked Matt, "who gets to take him first?"

Matt had sighed. Before Woody had lost his memory, he had confided to Matt the difficulties of his and Jordan's relationship. He knew Woody had been tremendously upset with the ME…and was trying to move on with his life. And despite the fact that he and Hoyt had had their differences in the past, he wanted the best for his partner. And he wasn't sure that seeing Jordan everyday was the best … if he did get his memory back suddenly and was with her, Woody might lose it emotionally. "I'll take him," he said quietly. "He can stay at my apartment with me… I have a spare bedroom. As he regains his memory, we can re-introduce him to his place."

"Are you sure?" Jordan asked sharply.

"Yeah. I can take him to work…I mean, he's an adult, not a baby…."

Or so Matt had thought.

The issue with Woody's amnesia was not just the memory loss. Matt could handle the constant questions. But the memory loss had done more than just wipe out Woody's past from his mind. It had also lowered the filter in Woody's emotions. The long-pent up anger that Woody had from dealing with the initial Riggs shooting…and all the post-trauma stress that went with that…his father's death, his mother's cancer, Cal…came flooding out. All the walls that Woody had built up in the past to try to keep himself emotionally stable were gone….crumbled to the ground…like last year's sandcastle.

And since Woody was living with Matt, Matt became the bull's eye for Woody's temper. Woody would always apologize, and Matt knew that Woody didn't mean to be so angry or have such a bad attitude, but the red-haired detective had taken all he could. Woody needed to find somewhere else to bunk for a couple of weeks while Matt took a time-out.

That was what brought Matt to Jordan's office. Woody would and could take his ill-temper out on anyone _but_ Jordan….the minute she would come into the room, he would immediately calm down.

A fact that had surprised the hell out of Seely. He assumed that a great deal of Woody's pent-up hostility had to do with her, and even though Woody couldn't consciously connect himself and Jordan, maybe subconsciously he would and turn his fury on her.

But that didn't happen.

"I need a break, Jordan. Could you take him for a couple of weeks or so? I've had him for a month and he's about to get the best of me…he's resentful, angry….furious with everything and everyone but you. Could you watch him for a while?" Matt asked from Jordan's couch.

"Me? I mean sure….but if he regains his memory he probably won't be so nice to me, either."

Matt sighed with relief and stood. "We'll cross that bridge when we come to it…for right now, for my sanity's sake, I just need a few weeks away from the ragin' Wisconsin native."

* * *

"I understand that you're going to be my babysitter for a while," Woody said.

Jordan felt her heart break a little more for him again. She had gone to Matt's apartment after work to pick Woody up. Matt had let her in and she found Woody sitting on the edge of Matt's couch, his duffle bag at his feet, and Woody looking down at his shoes like they were the most interesting thing he had ever seen.

He had looked like the lost orphan from his childhood that she had pictured in her mind so many times before when Woody would talk about his past. She stifled the strong urge to take him in her arms and hold him…tell him that everything would be alright…she was there and she wasn't going to let anything else bad happen to him.

Much like he had done so many times in the past with her.

Kneeling beside the couch, she gently raised his chin with two fingers so he would look her in the eyes. "Not exactly a babysitter…You're a little big for me to put over my shoulder and burp."

At least she got a small grin out of it. Not the full dimples, but his lips did turn up at the corners. He reached down and grabbed the duffle bag and helped her to her feet. "And at least you're easier to look at than Seely…" She got another grin and the fluttering sensation in her tummy that Woody was flirting with her … A shot of excitement flew through her. _Watch it_, her conscience told her. _Once he remembers, the flirting stops…and the hurting starts again…_

"Thanks," she replied, feeling her cheeks warm with a welcome blush…a sensation she hadn't felt with him in a long time.

"Let's go," he said, reaching for her hand. "But where," confusion rose in his blue eyes again when he turned back to face her, "where are we going?"

"I'm going to take you back to your place," she announced as she led him out in the hall and down to the parking deck. "I'm thinking that being in familiar surroundings might help you remember a little…"

"If you're sure," Woody replied, getting into the passenger side of her El Camino after slinging his duffle bag in the tiny back seat. "You're in charge…you're the one watching over me."


	7. It’s the Little Things

**Chapter Seven**

**It's the Little Things**

Jordan unlocked the door to Woody's apartment and gingerly pushed it open. She wasn't sure if he had cleaned up from the last time she was at his there…if his clothes still paved a trail from the kitchen counter to the bedroom…and if they did, would he ask her to try to explain.

What would she tell him? That he was by nature a messy person? Or perhaps he had a romantic interlude before he lost his memory?

And if she went there, would he ask her if she knew who with?

Jordan heaved a sigh of relief when she found the apartment neat and clean. "Here we are," she said as they walked in. "Home again, home again…"

Woody slowly walked into the living room area and looked around. It hit Jordan then. He hadn't been back at all since _that_ morning…Matt must have swung by and picked a few things up for Woody before he was discharged from the hospital. "So this is it?"

Jordan nodded. "This is where you live."

"Oh…it's not very big."

"I know…but it was right for you. You worked a lot of hours and didn't have a lot of time to spend taking care of a larger apartment…and it rent isn't much so you could save some money."

Woody walked through the kitchen and into the bedroom. "There's only one bedroom…."

"I know."

"I'll take the couch and …"

"No, you won't."

"But Jordan…"

"You're still recovering from surgery and you'll sleep where you will be the most comfortable and rest the best. You like a bed, specifically the left side. I'll take the couch." Jordan busied herself unpacking his duffel bag and putting his things away. He watched her with a confused look still in his eyes.

"You've been here before…" Woody said, noticing how she knew exactly where to put his things.

That one comment stopped her cold. She kept forgetting Woody didn't remember _anything_ about their past. "Ummm, yeah."

"How many times?"

_Oh Jesus…I can't tell him anything right now…as time passes, yes, but not now. But I don't want to lie…break it to him gradually…gradually…_ "Several. Like I told you before, we're good friends, Woody."

Woody studied her carefully for a minute. He suspected Jordan, like Matt, wasn't telling him everything at once. They were revealing things to him a little at a time…letting him adjust and then telling him more. But he had been keenly aware of several things about Jordan from the time he had spent with her. First, they must have been very good friends for her to be so intimately aware of the layout of his apartment to the point where she knew which dresser drawer he kept his underwear in. And she knew which side of the bed he slept on. To even his confused mind, that meant one thing:

She had spent the night at his apartment before.

Which led him to his next realization. If she had spent the night at his apartment before, they were either very good friends, or…..

It was more than friendship and she wasn't ready to tell him that. Woody let his eyes wander over her…and with a woman that looked like that, if he had let her continue to be just a friend, he questioned just how much of a man he had been in the past.

Unless of course, Jordan didn't like men…which raised a whole different set of issues Woody wasn't ready to deal with. And even though his memory had been wiped clean, he knew himself well enough to realize he didn't swing the other way, either. His head began to hurt and he massaged his temples with his fingers.

"Hey, you alright?" The alarm in her voice was palpable.

"I'm fine….just kind of overwhelmed….there's a lifetime of stuff I don't remember…"

"Look," she stopped unpacking his things and came around to the side of the bed where he was standing. "Don't worry about it too much. It will come back, I'm sure of it. Just be patient with yourself, okay?" She ran her fingers gently down the side of his face. "Why don't you lie down and let me cook dinner? I'll wake you up when it's done and you can eat."

Woody inwardly sighed. There were so many questions he wanted answered…needed answered. Where did he come from? Why was he in Boston? What was going on in his life before his memory blanked? He knew the rudimentary answers to some of those. Matt and Jordan both had told him he was originally from Wisconsin. He had left the small town of Keuwanne to come to a big city and be a detective. Jordan had carefully told him about his parents…that his mother died of cancer when he was a boy and his father died later when he was sixteen. He still didn't know how his father died. And did he have any siblings?

If he had any family, where were they? Why hadn't they been contacted? Woody had a sinking feeling with Jordan being listed as his next-of-kin, that he was all alone in the world.

Alone with no anchor … nothing to let him know there was a past…or what his future held. He suddenly felt totally abandoned…except for her. Grasping her hands, Jordan was surprised when he held on to them tightly. "Would you stay with me, Jordan? Please…at least until I fall asleep?"

His eyes held the same confusion and fear she had seen earlier at the hospital and at Matt's this afternoon. She ached for him one more time…a feeling she knew she was going to have to get used to and soon, all too soon, once he got his memory back, forget. "Sure…" She pulled him over to the bed, helped him prop against the pillows, pulled up the afghan at the foot of bed and spread it over him. "There." She gently mussed his hair with her fingers, watching his face carefully. "I know that look, Hoyt," she said. "What's on your mind?"

"Everything. I need to know _everything_, Jordan."

"And you will…your memory will come back."

Woody bit his lip, needing to voice his darkest fear, but that same fear nearly kept him silent. Nearly. Not quite. "What if it never comes back? What will happen to me?" he whispered.

"Don't think like that," Jordan replied just as softly. She felt tears dangerously near. She had never seen Woody this vulnerable and open. When she had first met him, all those years ago at the bank heist, he was open with her…letting her know his thoughts and wanting to know hers.

But vulnerable?

Not even after the Riggs shooting. He had never even been remotely vulnerable. Once more she found herself fighting the impulse to take him in her arms and hold him, reassure him that everything was going to be okay, and she would take care of him. "It will come back, Woody. It will. And until it does, I'll be here for you. Nothing's going to happen to you."

He reached for her hand one more time, gently squeezing it and running his thumb across her knuckles. "We must be pretty good friends."

Jordan nodded, still fighting tears. "We are. And I kind of owe you big time. You've pulled my ass out of a world of trouble more times than I can count."

He chuckled…a welcome sound to her. "And I don't think I ever really minded doing it…"

"You can't remember…"

"No, but I can feel it…I don't know what I told you, but I think deep down inside, I never really minded. I was just glad you were safe."

"You think?"

"I know."

"How do you know?" He was getting the best of her curiosity.

Woody shrugged. "I don't know, other than the fact that when I'm with you…I feel at home…like I don't have to prove anything to you…you're not so upset with me when I can't remember stuff, even when I try really hard and can't. You just accept me like I am…and you're okay with this memory-loss thing. It's not like you're not concerned…but I just feel that even if I never remember everything, you don't care. You like me because of who I am…and I don't have to try to be anything other than Woody around you."

Jordan felt a warm rush of tears behind her eyelids. If losing his memory had made him realize just what she felt, maybe this amnesia thing was a blessing in disguise. She had been trying to tell him that very thing before his memory went off kilter. That her new wealth hadn't changed her or the way she felt about him…she just wanted him. Woody Hoyt. Plain and simple.

Maybe the loss of memory had done more than just lower his emotional filter as far as anger was concerned. Maybe it had also crumbled the walls he had built around his heart.

She just prayed that when Woody's memory returned, the walls wouldn't.

* * *

"This place is getting kind of small," Woody remarked a couple of weeks later.

It did seem that somehow the apartment had shrunk with two people living there full time. Between his laptop and paperwork and her laptop and paperwork, the ping pong table was full. Jordan neatened up the living area every morning before she left work, so her "bedroom" wouldn't encroach too much on his space. She kept her things there to a minimum, often using her lunch hour to take things back to her house on Beacon Hill and retrieve fresh clothes, take a shower…whatever she needed to do.

"I know it seems that way, but it's just sort of cramped with two people," Jordan replied, washing the dinner dishes while he dried them.

"You must miss your place," he commented suddenly.

Jordan had learned quickly how to judge his moods. Anytime he asked questions referring to the past generally meant he was fishing for more information. Some piece of the puzzle of his life he was trying to put back together. "A little," she admitted. Honestly, she dreaded going back to her grandmother's house. She knew how achingly lonely it was going to feel after spending time with him.

"Where do you live?"

As far as Jordan knew, Woody had never been to her house at Beacon Hill. She was completely unaware of his earlier attempts to find out if she had moved into it. _Pearle Street…chances are he'll remember Pearle Street…with Malden and the break-in…the times we ate dinner there…yeah, Pearle Street…_ "I had a little apartment on Pearle Street up until a couple of months ago. Do you remember anything about it?"

"I've been there." It wasn't a question.

"Yes…" Jordan felt a flicker of apprehension lick through her veins. She wanted him to get his memory back, but if it meant giving up this new, vulnerable Woody…so much like her old Farm Boy that her heart ached, she wasn't so sure just _how_ happy she would be when it happened. She had a feeling her heart would be broken all over again.

"It had a red door."

_Bam._ "It did."

Woody's forehead creased and his eyes closed in concentration. In his mind he could see the door. It was big and red…and they were standing in front of it…he was reaching for her and she was holding him…. "Jordan."

The tone in his voice caught her attention immediately. "What? Are you okay?"

"What are we?"

"What are we? I'm not sure I'm following you…"

"I mean you…me…us…you keep telling me we're good friends."

"We are."

"But how good of friends?" He opened his eyes and took her by the shoulders. Since he had been back at work with Matt, several of the female officers had flirted openly with him…Santana, Annie, Lu…hugging him, paying him more attention than he knew how to deal with…and it was different from the way Jordan treated him. Jordan was concerned about him. The other women were too…but it was just different. More sexual overtones were used.

Jordan never did that. Occasionally running her fingers through his hair was as intimate as she got. But yet deep inside he knew his mind wasn't playing tricks on him. The picture that he saw told him he was getting ready to kiss her in that memory and she wasn't resisting.

So what happened?

"How good of friends?" She gulped and frantically thought of how to answer the question.

"Yeah. We were more than just friends, weren't we?"

_Oh God…how am I supposed to tell him…what am I supposed to tell him…_Woody was getting stronger everyday and Jordan had no doubt that in a couple of more weeks he would be living independently…no longer needing her despite the fact that his memory hadn't come back any.

Until now.

And it just had to deal with their relationship, didn't it?

_Honesty…honesty…but gradually. When he does get his memory back, you want him to remember you were caring, compassionate, and honest with him…_ Swallowing her fear, she replied, "Yes. We were at one time."

"But not now?"

She shook her head…a little sadly Woody thought… "No." She began to survey the tile on his kitchen floor with great interest.

He took his hand and gently raised her face to his. "Why?" _Oh God, not tears…_ he thought when he saw moisture well up in her eyes. _Damn…what did I do to her then…maybe I shouldn't have brought this up at all._ "I'm sorry," he murmured. "I shouldn't have…"

"That's okay…you have legitimate questions, Woody. Let's just say it didn't work out…and we tried to part as friends."

"Did we?"

"We weren't too successful," Jordan said, letting out a shaky chuckle. "But we were both hoping one day to get there…"

"But…"

The ringing of her cell phone abruptly interrupted the moment. Woody registered a vague feeling of annoyance…like her cell phone had interrupted them at vital times before. A roof top, maybe…but not in Boston. He heard her take the call, telling the person on the other end she'd be there in about fifteen minutes.

"I have to go, Woody…the morgue… there's been a mass casualty automobile accident…I'll be back, but it's going to be late. Will you be okay while I'm gone?"

"Sure….I'll stay right here and watch TV."

"Good…I'll see you as soon as I can." She grabbed her jacket and purse, heading for the door. "If you need me, call me…"

"Will….do…." he called out to the already shut door.

Still running their conversations and his flashbacks through his mind, he made his way to the couch and flipped on the television. So they had been more than friends…at one time. He wondered how long ago…probably not too long. The tears in her eyes told her the break up … on whatever level and whoever's fault … hadn't been easy on her. She wasn't over it.

He wondered just where their relationship had been at…cutting the TV set off, he walked over to the bookcase on the other side of the wall. There were some photo albums there…that he had studiously avoided. Until now, he had hoped that his memory would come back naturally…that gradually all these little flashbacks he was having would work their way into a finished puzzle without any prompting from the outside…gently, unobtrusively…easily.

But evidently, some of his past had rough edges…his relationship with her for instance. Still mulling, he flipped through the smallest album. Pictures of them in the morgue…at someone's birthday party. Them under the mistletoe. _Obviously enjoying ourselves…_ he smiled. If the look on their faces while they were kissing was any indication, they must have had strong feelings for each other at one time.

_What happened?_ he asked himself, closing the album and laying down on the couch, his hands behind by his head. She was a gorgeous woman, compassionate, warm…he would bet any money she still had feelings for him, even if she had relegated them to a friendship level.

What happened…what had he done…what had she done…his forehead creased in concentration again…but nothing came…no flashes of memory…no visions of the past. Whatever happened between them remained a mystery…one she wasn't ready to reveal to him.

She would. He was sure of it. In time.

But until then, he would gladly accept the fact that as long as she was with him, he felt a calmness and a peace he didn't feel anywhere else or with anyone else. Right now, she was his center, his lifeline and anchor in a world where he felt alone and confused. Right now, it was the little things she did that kept him sane. Dinner. Conversation. A warm and caring touch when he was overwhelmed by the emptiness of his history.

It may not be what they had in the past, but right now it was the little things that kept him going.

And he was grateful.


	8. Be Careful What You Wish For

**Chapter Eight**

**Be Careful What You Wish For**

Jordan couldn't begin to describe how proud she was of Woody. Just like when he had been injured by Riggs and met the physical obstacles of his paralysis head on, he did the same with his amnesia.

Occasionally his temper still flared, but those times were getting fewer and further between. Woody was more comfortable with himself now. He understood that his memory would probably return gradually and had adjusted his attitude to that. He was happy when flashbacks would occur, even though there weren't many of them, and spark him to remember a place, a time, or an event. But he had also accepted the fact that the full memory of his past might never return and he would be left to ask people questions…getting their take on the chronicle of his life instead of his own.

With the last back surgery deemed a full success, he had returned to work full time. At first he worked desk duty and then light cases. Eventually, he and Matt were back out in the field together full time. And while his memory may have dimmed, his skills as a detective were as sharp as ever. He was still a shark in the interrogation room.

He was healthy, independent, and doing well. He no longer needed Jordan to stay with him at his apartment. The doctors had told him he was fine to live by himself.

She accepted the news stoically, but couldn't help but feel a twinge of disappointment. She knew she had enjoyed staying with him…but didn't realize how much until Dr. Roland released her from her duties. She and Woody had drove back to his apartment in silence and Woody watched quietly from the bedroom as she gathered her few things in the bathroom and tossed them in her bag. "I'll miss you," he said suddenly, pulling her out of solitary thoughts.

"I'll miss you, too," she softly replied, "but I'm as close as the phone…if you feel overwhelmed or angry….or just need me to talk to, hit two on speed dial on either your cell or apartment phone and I'll be here."

He nodded, continuing to watch her pack. "I just hope I can do this, Jordan." There it was again…his vulnerability and his fear.

"You can." She put all her faith in him behind those two words.

"But what if I never remember…what if…"

"The doctors have said your memory will all probably come back in time…they're just not sure when."

"I know." He rubbed the back of his neck with his hand while she zipped her bag. "But hell, they're not even sure what caused it….why should I believe that it will ever come back?"

Jordan picked her bag up off the bed and extended her hand to him. "Come here…walk me to the door."

Reluctantly, he let her pull him to his feet and he took the bag out of her hand, but followed her to the door. She put one hand on the knob to turn it and walk out of his life one more time, but her heart just wouldn't let her leave without saying what was on her mind. Turning back to face him, she put a hand on each arm and looked up into his blue eyes. "I hate to say this, but so what if the memories don't come back, Woods? Look at yourself. You've overcome medical setback after medical setback…and even with this amnesia, you're still doing fine…you're functioning, working, and doing well. For someone to be able to cope with all you've been handed, you're one hell of a man, Woody Hoyt. And that's nothing to be ashamed of. You've accomplished a lot and I can't begin to tell you how proud I am of you. So be proud of yourself…and relax. Everything will be okay. You'll be fine." Jordan felt her throat tighten when she saw a flicker of something in his eyes.

"Thanks, Jordan…but I don't know…."

She felt the tears coming long before they made their way behind her eyelids. He didn't need to see her cry.

And she didn't want to let him to see her cry. "Look, I gotta go…I have an early day tomorrow." She took her bag from him and did turn the knob this time to let herself out.

"Jordan…."

"If you need me, call me… I mean it….Bye…"

"Jordan." His voice carried some of the old forcefulness. He shut the door and turned her back to him. "I have interrupted your life for six weeks now. I can't thank you enough for everything you've done for me…I'll never be able to repay you…I just…just…" He pulled her to him and gently kissed her forehead. "Thank you."

"You're welcome." The tears were there. She needed to leave and leave quickly. "Call me…" She was out the door this time.

"I will…." His voice followed her down the hall along with her own morose thoughts.

_So what if your memory doesn't come back…so what, so what, so what…_

Jordan bit her lip. She had meant what she said. Woody had done well with himself…far better than she would have done if she found herself in his position. But there was another part of her, a very selfish part, that wished she could have the "old" Woody back.

Not that this history-less Woody didn't have his pluses. He couldn't remember their stormy past, so this Woody didn't carry the issues with him that the "old" Woody did. This Woody was more like the Farm Boy she knew and cherished. His sweet attitude and caring disposition reminded Jordan so much of when she first met him, that her heart ached.

But the woman in her wished he could remember what they felt when they made love.

Sighing, she slid into the front seat of her El Camino, heading back to her house in Beacon Hill. Her head was throbbing as that tiny voice in the back of her head reminded her to be careful what she wished for.

* * *

"Where have you been keeping yourself?" Jordan turned at the sound of the voice.

"I've told you…I've been busy…working and caring for a friend that has been ill," she replied, accepting Neil's light kiss on her cheek. Neil had been phoning and e-mailing her the entire time she had been with Woody. She had put him off, telling him that a close friend, a friend without family, had been sick and she was caring for him. "As soon as he's better, I'll give you a call," she had promised.

And with Woody now on his own and their relationship relegated to something between a friendship and work-related relationship, Jordan had reluctantly admitted that any sparks between them were permanently extinguished. Gamely, remembering what Lily had told her months ago, she had picked up her phone and called Neil. He had agreed to meet her for dinner the next day at a small Italian place not far from the morgue.

"I've missed you," he said softly, reaching across the table and taking her hand.

"I've missed you, too," Jordan answered, hoping in her heart there were at least some shades of truth behind that statement.

"Good." Neil smiled. He didn't have dimples, but he did have one of those GQ-ish smiles that made a woman go slightly weak in the knees. He picked up his menu. "So…since you've obviously eaten here before, what's good?"

"Any of the pasta dishes are wonderful."

Jordan inwardly sighed as Neil made his decision. Neil had been patient with her while she was staying with Woody…Neil had called everyday and been more considerate than Jordan felt she deserved. _But he's not Woody…_

Neil wasn't. Neil was Neil and Jordan told herself to be glad that there was a man in her life who seemed to care for her and miss her when she wasn't around.

_I wonder if Woody misses me…_

The waiter took their order and Neil sat back and rehashed the Brown real estate deal to her…Jordan tried to stay interested, but her thoughts were everywhere but in the restaurant. _Does Woody think about me…does he wish I was still at his apartment?_

_I wish I was…_

"_Be careful what you wish for…"_ The little voice was back and Jordan knew it was right. Vainly, popping a mental Ritalin, she focused back in on Neil. And was mildly successful the rest of the meal, surprising the hell out of herself. Finally, last bite of strawberry cheesecake eaten, she waited outside the restaurant while he paid their bill.

"Hi…" a familiar voice called to her. Woody.

"Hi yourself," she replied, finding herself smiling at him despite of everything. It had been a couple of weeks since she had seen him, and the expression on his face plainly told her that he was glad to see her again.

"Are you going in to eat?" he asked.

"No…just finished. I'm heading home."

"Darn…thought we at least might catch dinner together since you haven't caught any of my cases…"

Jordan felt her lips turn up a little more at the corners. "Sorry…"

"There you are," Neil said coming out of the restaurant. "Wondered where you had gotten to…oh, hello…" His voice trailed off when he saw Woody.

"Needed some air, so I stepped outside to wait on you," Jordan murmured. "Neil, this is Woody Hoyt…he's a homicide detective with the Boston PD. We work together…Woody, this is Neil…a …a friend of mine."

"Nice to meet you," Neil said, extending his hand for Woody to shake.

"Likewise…" Woody responding, shaking the outstretched hand.

Pleasantries exchanged, the inevitable awkward moment descended. "Well…look I need to get my take-out order and head back to work," Woody said, deciding that he needed to take the initiative to put Jordan out of her obvious discomfort.

"You're working this late?" Concern laced her voice.

"I'm fine…see you tomorrow, Jordan." Woody headed into the restaurant.

"I need to go, too," Neil rejoined. "I have to go back to work, too. Tying up the final loose ends of the Brown deal. I'll call you tomorrow, Jo." He lightly brushed her lips with his, letting them linger just a moment longer than Jordan liked. Then gently he released her and after a small wave, Neil found his car and drove away in the night.

Leaving Jordan to pause for a moment on the sidewalk at the realization that once again, she would be going back to her Beacon Hill estate all alone.

And completely unaware that Woody had seen the entire kiss from the restaurant window.


	9. That Kiss

**Chapter Nine**

**That Kiss**

For two days Woody didn't contact Jordan. Even when he caught a homicide and she was one of the answering ME's, he didn't call her.

The kiss. Between her and Neil. For some reason it rankled him.

And he couldn't explain to himself exactly _why_ it did. Vainly he told himself that it was because he knew that at one time, he and Jordan had been involved and had called it quits. _It's just a little leftover jealousy_, he told himself, trying to rationalize a good mood back into existence.

It wasn't working. The anger that had manifested itself after the amnesia had first set in was back and once again, Matt Seely found himself with the bull's eye on his back. "What the hell is the matter with you?" Matt had finally asked, after taking yet another raging blast from Woody.

"Nothing…nothing, man…"

"Yeah, right. What's set you off now?"

Woody sighed and carefully looked his partner over. "Have you always shot me straight, Seely?"

Matt hesitated for a moment, wondering where this conversation was leading, as well as quickly reflecting all the answers he had given Woody. "Y…y….yeah. As honest as I could be with what I know about you. We hadn't been partners that long when you got amnesia, Hoyt."

"Then what can you tell me about Jordan?"

"Jordan Cavanaugh?"

"That would be the Jordan I'm talking about."

"She's hardworking, too damn perceptive for her own good, a hell of an ME, a good-looking woman that's probably too independent for her own safety, and has a pair of legs that make a man think about…"

"Not that," Woody said, quickly cutting Matt off. He had seen Jordan's legs one too many times at his apartment…long legs that were exposed by the girl boxers she slept in. He knew where Matt was going with that comment because Woody had already been there in his mind….several times. "No…I mean about her and me…she and me…us…"

"You two…God, Woody, don't make me go there. I'll tell you anything…but that."

"Look, Matt…please…" Woody lowered his voice to something close to pleading. "It's important. I only know what she's told me… and I don't remember a freakin' thing about it."

"I don't know much, Woody," Matt said, his voice softening just a bit. "You two had broken up, if you were ever really together, by the time we became partners. I know for about four years it was touch and go…you'd touch her, she'd go off somewhere. Then all of a sudden….it was over. She was dating a guy named JD Pollack and you and Simmons were going out."

"Me and Simmons?" Funny….he didn't think he liked blondes.

"You and Simmons. But that didn't last long either. She had been your shrink at one time and there were all these ethical issues…"

_Shit._ "We – me and Jordan – broke up…just like that?"

"Seems. You two came back from a case in northern Massachusetts and as soon as you were home, things were colder than a witch's…"

"That's fine. I get the picture. But you don't know why?"

"Not a clue, my friend. I don't think anyone really knows but you and her." Matt eyed him curiously. "So why is it so important to know this now? Your memory coming back?"

Woody shook his head, disgust evident in his face. "No…not yet. I just…just heard something that made me uneasy." _Okay, that's a half truth – I saw something that made me uneasy."_

Matt laughed before he headed out their office door to get some coffee. "Man, let me tell you something about this place, Hoyt. The rumor mill here works overtime. Don't believe everything you see and only about half of what you hear. If you want to know the truth about yours and Jordan's relationship – or whatever the hell it was – you're going to have ask her."

He wrestled with Matt's answer for the rest of the afternoon. _You're going to have to ask her…_

He didn't want to. Woody did not want to have to ask Jordan the parameters and boundaries of their past relationships. He had wanted to remember them…allow them to come back to him like the few other things he remembered had – in snippets, flashbacks – small packets of information that he could easily absorb and digest a little at the time.

But then he saw another man kissing her.

It shouldn't have bothered him. Not really. Jordan had told him that their relationship was over. So what if she was seeing another man? That was the way things went, right? You break up and then get out there in that dating pool and try again…swim with the sharks and see if you can't find a pearl. He knew that was true. Resolutely, he turned back around to his computer to file some reports. Of course that was true and right and the way things had to be.

So why did that kiss bother him so much? Woody shook his head. With a few flicks of a few keys, he had it. Her home address….

The hell with the reports.

* * *

"Who on earth?" Jordan mumbled to herself as she hastily pulled herself out of the shower and grabbed her robe.

"He said he was Detective Hoyt, ma'am," Millie replied from Jordan's bedroom. Jordan had pulled a double shift at the morgue and at the end of the second one, left work and came home to eat, shower, and sleep. In that order. She had no plans to go out that night and no plans for company.

"Did he say what he wanted?" Jordan asked her housekeeper.

"No, ma'am. Just asked if he could speak to you in private. Harris put him in the front room and told him we'd check to see if you could come down."

_What does he want? _Jordan thought to herself as she fluffed her hair out in front of the mirror. _We're not working any case together…Maybe his memory has come back…oh shit._ "Thanks, Millie. You and Harris can go ahead and leave for the evening."

"Are you sure, Miss Cavanaugh?"

"It's Jordan. And I'm sure. I'm quite capable of heating my supper up in the microwave." She gave Millie a crooked grin. "Now go. Enjoy your evening."

Jordan donned a pair of sweat pants and a t-shirt and headed downstairs to the front room. She found Woody there, pacing and nervously running a hand through his hair. "Hi," she greeted him, hoping her voice didn't sound as nervous as he appeared.

"Hello," Woody replied. "I didn't know you lived in Beacon Hill until I found your address….I thought you said you lived on Pearle Street."

"I told you did up until a few months ago. My grandmother died and left me this house, so I moved in here."

"Did I know that before…"

Jordan nodded. "I moved in a couple of months before your surgery.

Woody nodded, and circled the room one more time, coming to stand in front of her. "I need some questions answered."

Swallowing hard, Jordan sank down on the couch behind her. "What kind of questions?"

"About us."

"Ah." She reached over and pulled a pillow from the corner of the sofa and held it in front of her, both arms wrapped around it. It was a defensive motion and it didn't escape Woody's attention. "Has your memory come back?" she asked. Her voice sounded tight and strained.

"No." He sank down beside her. "Something happened the other night, Jordan. Something I need to ask you about. Will you be honest with me?"

She nodded, feeling like one of those cartoon canaries trapped in the cage with the cat waiting for her to make a false move. "I will."

"Good." He paused for a moment to gather his thoughts. "The other night…when I saw you out at Marino's…the Italian place?" Woody waited for her to nod in remembrance. "You were with another man…"

"Neil."

"Yeah, Neil. I know you told me that once we were in some sort of relationship, but called it quits. I know you have every right to date other men. But I saw Neil kiss you good-bye…" Jordan started to say something, but Woody held up his hand to stop her. "I'll be honest, Jo. The kiss bothered me. But what bothered me even more than that was the way I felt about you kissing another man. I don't know….I think I felt jealous or something."

Jordan slowly raised her head a little and looked him in the face. His honest, blue eyes were telling her that he was confused. If they were over, why did it bother him to see her kissing someone else? "I don't know why you feel that way, Woody."

"I don't either. That's why I'm here… I want you to tell me about us. All about us. What did we have and why did we break up?

"Woody… I don't think that's such a good idea…"

"I can't count on my memory coming back, Jordan. It's only come back just a very few areas…and I need to know this. And I want it to come from you. According to Matt, we were getting along … and then after a case in northern Massachusetts, everything went up in smoke."

_Flames is more like it…_she thought, wincing at the memory. "This is going to take a while, Woody."

"I don't have nothing but time…"

Sighing, Jordan debated on whether to get into all the gory details or give him the sanitized version. Glancing at him from under her lashes, observing the resolute expression on his face, she realized that the sanitized version just wouldn't do. He was trying to comprehend and analyze his emotions…understand why he felt the way he did when he didn't remember anything about them.

To be honest, she wasn't sure why he would be jealous of her and Neil. Before he lost his memory, he had told her that he didn't want to be her rebound guy and had moved on with his life with seeming enthusiasm and more gusto than she wanted to remember.

She also knew that what she was about to reveal to him might end this new-found fragile friendship that they had. Taking a deep breath, she began. "If you really want to know how it started, we're going to have to go back four, nearly five years ago…"

"That long?"

Jordan nodded. "I answered one of your first homicides after you came from Wisconsin. It was a bank heist…" She watched his face as she knew he was searching his memory and coming up empty. "We became friends, although it was obvious to me from the start that you wanted more from me…"

"And you didn't like me that way…"

Jordan shook her head vehemently. "No. That's not true. I liked you from the start…but you were such a do-gooder Boy Scout."

"That I turned you off."

"Not true again. I thought you were too good for me." She lowered her voice to a whisper and looked down at the pillow. "I mean, here I was…Jordan Cavanaugh…falling for a man that had the patience of a saint….a man that my heart kept screaming for me to let go and love while my mind kept telling me that there was no way it would work between us…we were too different and I'd end up hurting you." She lowered her head and her hair spilled down over her shoulders, hiding her face.

"Did you?" Woody took his hand and gently brushed her hair off her shoulder so that he could better see her face.

"Yes. No. I don't know….every time you wanted to move our relationship forward, I'd dig in my heels and say no. Then for my birthday last year, you gave me a ring. A friendship ring, but it was a _diamond_ one…"

"Was I that sure of myself with you?"

"No…that was the point. We were getting along really well…we were closer as friends than ever…when we caught this case about two best friends that fell in love…but it didn't work out…" Jordan's eyes held a far away look as she remembered the case of the pregnant nun. "And I came away from that thinking that all I wanted to do was be in your arms…you were my best friend and for the first time in my life I was scared to death over losing you. I initially had turned your ring down…but about the time I picked up the phone to call you to see if I could have another chance with you, you march into my office and without even giving me a chance to speak, tell me that we are better off as just friends." Jordan sighed deeply again and shut her eyes against the pain that dredging up all these memories was causing her. She hoped Woody wouldn't notice in the dim light of the front room.

But he did. He saw the play of emotions across her face…the emotional pain that was making her wince. Part of him wanted to stop this conversation…so that her pain would stop…but he needed to know the truth. "Then what happened?" he softly prompted.

Quickly telling herself that the man sitting beside of her was a different Woody, she gulped and went on with their story. "You started seeing other women…and I tried seeing other men. You got a little jealous…you told me that you couldn't imagine me saying to another man what you always wanted to hear me say to you…" She chuckled as she remembered his vocalized protests over her blind date. Then closing her eyes again, she shuddered. "And…then it happened…"

"What?" His voice held quiet urgency.

"You were shot. By Riggs. I nearly lost you, Woody…I nearly…." Her voice broke then and she felt the tears. It happened every time she recalled that day…tears…regrets. "I was so afraid you were going to die…I told you….begged you then, not to leave me. And I told you that I loved you."

"You did?" Puzzlement ringed his voice, causing Jordan to open her eyes and face him again. "Then what was the issue? I loved you…you loved me…why didn't we …."

"You pushed me away. You told me to get out of our life. You didn't want me." Jordan's voice was as heavy as her heart.

And Woody was speechless. _This makes no sense…._ "W…why?" he finally stammered.

"I don't know. I still don't know…" She struggled to regain her composure against her pain. "Anyway, I started seeing a man … JD Pollack…and you were dating other people, too."

"Who?"

"Annie, Santana…Lu…and a few others. But mainly Lu."

Woody shook his head. "I don't remember…and I don't feel anything when I'm with those women now…" _Not like I do when I'm with you…_

"Then….me and you were called to a case at the Lucy Carver Inn…we got snowed in. We had to share a room and a bed…the first night we talked…got a lot of stuff out in the open. The second night…the second night…" her voice faltered.

"What happened? What happened the second night?"

"We made love. For the first time."

Dead silence ringed the room before Woody blew out a long breath. After four years….they finally had made love. That should have been enough to push the relationship closer, not further apart. "Wow…"

"Yeah. Wow. Definitely a wow, Woody. I had never felt that way with anyone before," she said, reflecting that talking about that night to him now was nearly like talking to a third unaffected party. He didn't remember a thing about it. It was nearly like confessing it to her priest.

_And it was then Matt said the relationship grew cold…_Wood remembered. "But that didn't help us did it?"

She shook her head. "No…you said you didn't want to be my rebound guy after I had broke up with Pollack to be with you….you moved on to date other women and …"

"Did we ever go out again?"

"No…not really. But you made love to me two more times, but after each time, you backed off…."

Woody was floored. He had another chance with her and he pushed her away for Lu Simmons and the like? Vainly he searched his limited memory banks for some kind of clue about what he had been thinking or feeling, and came up empty.

Except for her. Woody might not be able to remember everything they did and said to each other… or the reasons why in the end he kept pushing her away, but he remembered what he felt when he was with her…a warmth and peace he was sure was going to vanish in the space of a few minutes or hours, but yet a feeling he desperately wanted to hang on to. A feeling of protectiveness that wanted to keep her by his side that that he knew she would be okay and wouldn't be hurt again.

Yet he had ended up hurting her…that was apparent by the tears she kept fighting from running down her face. Something had to be done.

"Could we try it again, Jordan?" he tentatively asked.

"Try what?" she sniffed back her emotions and tried to focus.

"Us….us being a couple instead of just friends. Maybe I could give you the ring back and we could pretend that none of what occurred afterwards really did. I sure as hell don't remember…and if you tried really hard.."

"No!" The word was torn from her lips with such force she knew it took him by surprise. "No," she repeated more softly, but with just as much emphasis.

"Why not? Don't you have any feelings left for me?"

"It's not that, Woody. That's not the issue…." Jordan stood and walked away from him to the other side of the room. For a few moments, the silence was broken by only the ticking of the huge grandfather clock in the entrance way. "Woody," she finally continued when she composed herself, "do you know what would happen to us when you got your memory back?"

"We'd live happily ever after?" he asked, trying to manage a weak grin.

"No…You'd be furious with me…you'd think I tried to tricked you into this. And I can't live with your anger and rejection again. You've broken my heart three times…I don't think I can take a fourth time." She turned around to face him, only to find him right behind her.

"So until I get my memory back…we can be friends and that's all…"

Jordan nodded. "I'll be your friend…I'll help you in anyway I can. I know you don't understand all of this, but when you do remember, I want you to recall that I helped you everyway I knew how…and that I was there for you…then maybe you'll see that I'm the same Jordan you've always known and maybe you'll love me again…maybe then we can try the relationship thing one more time…if you want to…if we both have the heart to try to start all over."

Woody looked deep in her brown eyes. She was telling the truth…as far as he could tell and he did know enough about himself he could sense when people were lying to him. It had been over between the two of them and Jordan was in no way going to try to revisit the past until he could go there with her.

And right now he couldn't. Most of the past thirty-three years of his life were a huge, blank void. Sighing, he ran his hand through his hair again. "You're right…you're right. I guess it's better that we're not together….I think we both need time apart to get our respective acts together. Me to get my memory back and you to let me have that space."


	10. Morning Sickness

**Chapter Ten**

**Morning Sickness**

The bouts of nausea were happening more frequently than Woody liked. He'd wake up sick to his stomach and spend most of the morning heaving into the porcelain pony…both at his apartment and at work.

Matt Seely was beginning to joke about morning sickness.

Woody didn't think it was very funny.

First because this was the sickest he had been since the surgery. At the beginning he thought it was food poisoning, but Seely had eaten the same sandwich from the same deli the day before Woody's insides rebelled and Matt was fine. "It's the flu," the red-headed detective told Woody.

"I've had the shot," Woody countered.

"Don't mean a lot this winter," Seely retorted, nodding toward the window. And it didn't. While Woody had wrestled with his memory issues, the late summer and fall morphed into the most hellacious winter Boston had seen in years. The snow this year had broken long-standing records….and the nastiness of the flu season had broken a few of its own. The hospitals were full of the illness and there had been at least six deaths directly attributed to it so far.

"It's not the flu. I don't feel _that_ bad."

"Whatever. Just…if you're running a fever and hurling, for God's sake stay home, Hoyt. I don't want the damn stuff."

Woody nodded and shrugged off the second reason he resented Matt's comment about his nausea being morning sickness: Even if he could get pregnant, he hadn't been getting any…

Not because the opportunity wasn't there. Lu had made it plain she was more than willing to revisit their relationship and she didn't care whether he had his memory back or not. She and her bed were warm and willing.

Santana had indicated the same. And between the cool blonde and the fiery Latino, Woody imagined the second option would be a lot more interesting than the first.

Either that or he just had a thing for brunettes.

Specifically, long-legged brunettes with whiskey-colored eyes that once told him that she loved him…Jordan.

Woody sighed at that memory – the night he had gone to her house at Beacon Hill. They hadn't had much contact since then, other than work-related issues. She had given him the space he asked for and he greedily took it….trying hard to remember their past…anything that would prompt him to recall what they had so he could go to her and…

And do what? According to Jordan, once he remembered their past, he'd go back to being angry at her.

He wasn't sure. But another round of nausea hit him and he ran down the precinct hall to the bathroom, making it just in time. He rinsed out the basin and then washed his own face, looking in the mirror. The dark circles under his eyes told him that his sleep had been restless…and there was a headache niggling between his temples. Maybe Matt was right….maybe he was getting the flu.

Or maybe some sort of infection had set in his back where he had the surgery. These symptoms weren't side effects of the initial spinal injury, but maybe, despite the fact the doctor said he had healed fine, there _was_ something there. Woody patted his face dry and decided a phone call to his surgeon might be in order.

* * *

Jordan pulled the curtain back and stared out of the window of her Beacon Hill home. The Beatles were on the radio again... 

_Can't buy me love, everybody tells me so  
Can't buy me love, no, no, no, no…_

She smiled wryly to herself. Her money couldn't buy her love or good weather. There was at least six feet of snow on the ground and the wind was blowing it into drifts that were ten feet high or better. Garret had called her earlier and told her to stay put in her warm and toasty home today until the street plows got to her section of town. Then he expected her in. Things were kind of slow anyway…most folks with any sense were staying home.

_Say you don't need no diamond ring and I'll be satisfied  
Tell me that you want the kind of thing that money just can't buy  
I don't care too much for money, money can't buy me love_

Money couldn't buy her heat, either, she noted. The power had gone off last night and her house was now dark, lonely and cold, as she had sent Harris and Millie home well before the roads had gotten too bad. Jordan had discovered some wood in the storage area of the basement and brought several armfuls upstairs. She was staying in the front room that had a fireplace so she could be warm. Thankfully, one of the couches had a hide-away bed. She would at least be comfortable until the lights came back on.

_Can't buy me love, everybody tells me so  
Can't buy me love, no, no, no, no…_

She reached out and flicked the battery-powered radio off, flooding the rooms with quiet. It had been on for her to try to find another weather forecast…to see if there was a break in the snow anywhere in the near future.

But the weather predictions had been the same. The Blizzard of 2006 would go down in history as the perfect storm…lots of snow and little relief no time in the near future. Jordan sighed. The silence was oppressive, but she needed to save her batteries.

* * *

"Are you sure you're okay?" Matt asked Woody later that same afternoon. "You're awfully pale, Hoyt." 

"I'll be fine…it's just a headache and my stomach's still ballistic. I know you don't think those deli sandwiches the other day were bad, but I'm not so sure…"

"I still think it's the flu."

"It's not the flu. No temperature."

"Some people don't always run a temperature when they're sick."

Woody rolled his eyes and sighed. "Yeah, well….maybe I do."

Matt snorted. "Look, I've gotta head over to the morgue, or at least try to, to look over an autopsy. You wanna come or hang out here and fill out reports?"

Woody's stomach lurched again…not so much from the possibilities of seeing a gruesome autopsy, but from seeing her. He still wasn't ready for that. "If you don't mind, I think I'll stay here."

"Suit yourself….but try to get to feeling better, okay, partner?"

Woody nodded and began to thumb his way through the reports before his stomach and head began their uneasy tap dance again. Willing his stomach to at least remain calm, he made his way over to the couch to stretch out. He had been on duty twelve hours already and had no desire to try to brave the streets in this blizzard to make it home. No one would say anything to him if he were to lie down for a minute and see if he couldn't get to feeling better. Using his jacket as a pillow, he stretched out, one arm thrown across his eyes and soon he dozed off into a fitful sleep.

And began dream…sort of.

It was more like a slideshow….pictures of his past….the fragments and pieces he had remembered so far kept playing across the screen in his head…taunting him. His memory was just out of his reach….he'd try to recall a person, an event…and they'd melt away.

Woody shut his eyes tighter and pushed the fragments away. Soon he was fast asleep.

* * *

Jordan shivered and put some more wood on the fire. It was a humdinger of a storm that was sure, but it wasn't the snow that was getting to her. 

It was the loneliness.

It was too quiet in that big house. Millie had once joked the house was made for parties and children, with its huge bedrooms and recreational facilities. Jordan had snorted and told Millie not to hold her breath for either one. With her work schedules, her partying was restricted to mostly a few beers out with Nigel or Bug. And with her track record as far as relationships go…well, if Millie wanted something to take care of other than Jordan, the ME would have to see about getting a puppy or kitten.

At least in her apartment building there were neighbors to be snowed in with. There was always a quick poker game to pick up or something.

Here it was just her. She sighed and turned away from her vigil at the window. It was only a little past six, but it was already getting dark. Maybe she could read a little by the light of the fire….and turn in early. Get caught up on all the sleep she always complained about she lost.

She pulled a book out she had been reading earlier and curled up by the fire, trying in vain to concentrate on the paragraph in front of her. Jordan had just begun to read the same paragraph for the third time when a knock at the door interrupted her.

* * *

Woody woke with a start, his office dark and still. _Where is Seely? _He wondered, looking at his watch. Matt had been gone for a couple of hours. Maybe he had come in and when he saw Woody napping, turned around and left so he wouldn't be disturbed. 

_Nah, Seely is not that considerate…unless you are Lily, and that was before Brandeau entered the picture…_Woody chuckled at the love triangle that was apparent to everyone but Lily…

And then gasped.

His memory was back.


	11. Don’t Forget the Matches

**Chapter Eleven**

**Don't Forget the Matches**

It was back…his memory was back. He could remember everything. His first assignment in Boston. The last assignment he had been on before he lost his memory. Riggs. Cal. Lu. All the past came flooding back to him…relief from an emotional drought.

But mostly he remembered _her_. Jordan. The risks and the rewards of being with her. Woody stood up from the couch and walked over to the window. He remembered every case they had been on together…the ring … and then how he pushed her away after he had been injured. He winced inwardly when he recalled the pain in her eyes…pain that made him hurt.

He remembered that night at the Lucy Carver Inn and every other opportunity he had the chance to hold her.

And then push her away one more time. It had been safe pushing her away. Safe for him, anyway. She was too complicated…she was unsure of herself…she would play with his heart. She would, wouldn't she?

_No_, Woody sighed and pushed away from the window frame. If anyone had played with another person's emotions, it was him. Jordan's feelings for him had been made clear from the time Riggs shot him. He was the one who kept reeling her in and then casting her away. She even broke her steady, reliable relationship with Pollack – a man that clearly loved her and was willing to overlook a blatant infidelity to be with her – when Woody had given her every indication he was ready to move forward in the relationship.

And then he backed out again. Cold.

Jordan had been right when she called him a son of a bitch all those months ago. That's what he was. What he had been – at least to her. He had pushed her away because he wasn't willing to take the risk. After all these years of accusing her of being too afraid of relationships to hazard her heart, he was the one that was really the big coward.

Not her.

And she still wasn't afraid. Jordan had been given the perfect opportunity to back out of his life for good when his memory went AWOL. Instead, she had stuck by him…helped him in everyway she could. Encouraged him.

Yet had carefully erected an emotional wall to keep him at a distance so she wouldn't be hurt again.

Woody sighed. He didn't blame her. He had hurt her enough. Yes, Jordan had changed from the first time he had met her. She was loving and warm. Compassionate. Caring.

Or maybe she had been this way the whole time. She just had gotten to the point where she trusted him enough to show those sides of her character. Then he had to go and break her heart, not once, but three times.

No wonder she had put the walls up again.

_No, money hasn't changed Jordan,_ he reflected. _I did._

* * *

"No shittin' me?" Seely asked as soon as he had finally gotten back to the office.

"No, I'm not. It's back. My memory's back…I woke up and it's back," Woody replied, a little embarrassed at his friend's exuberance.

"Hoyt, that's wonderful. I know you're … well, more than happy."

"Relieved. Ecstatic. That pretty much sums it up."

"Who else have you told?"

"Just you."

Matt looked at him curiously. "You haven't told Jordan?"

"Not yet."

"She'll want to know."

Woody nodded. "Is she at the morgue?"

"No," Matt shook his head. "Not today. Macy told her to stay at home until they cleared the streets up on Beacon Hill."

"So she's home…"

"I would imagine. Not too many people are out joy-riding right now."

Woody grabbed his coat and headed for the door. "Matt….do me a favor and clock me out."

"Woods, you can't be serious…" Matt followed his partner out the door. "It's freezing outside and there's six feet of snow on the ground with more falling…"

"Never been more serious about anything in my life."

"Can't you just call her?"

"Would she just call me over something like this?"

Matt stopped chasing Woody as soon as he saw the other detective had already gone through the front doors. Dutifully he went back and clocked Hoyt out, praying the next traffic fatality he answered didn't involve an old Chevelle.

* * *

"Hang on…I'll be there in a minute," Jordan called out to the banging at her front door. _Who on earth, in this weather…_ "Woody?" she answered herself, not fully believing he was at her front door. "What on earth are you doing out in all this … snow?"

"Can I come in, Jordan? It's freezing out here." The shiver he gave this time was real.

"Ummm, sure. Sorry." She pushed open the door wider to let him in, noting this time something was different. That old, confident swagger was back…either he just made the collar of the century or… "But it's not that much warmer in here," she continued.

"You're power's off," he noted, taking in the darkness and chilly temperature.

"Yeah. It's been out for a while now." She led him down the hall to the room she was staying in. "But I have a fire place in here."

Woody followed her in, but paused in the middle of the room. "Your fire's going out. Where's the wood?"

Jordan pointed to the corner near the fireplace. "But you don't have to…I can do that."

Woody shook his head. "No. We need to talk and I want you to be warm and comfortable." He took off his coat and began to add wood into the fireplace.

_The blue sweater. He just had to wear the blue sweater,_ Jordan thought, her eyes greedily drinking in the sight of him. It had been a couple of weeks since she had seen him. The blue sweater that matched his eyes perfectly and clung to his chest like a second skin. She swallowed hard and told her libido to calm down. Trying to think about anything but the way he looked in the sweater and those jeans, she asked, "What do you need to talk to me about?"

Woody put the last log on the fireplace and made sure it was okay before he slowly turned to face her. "It's back, Jo."

Jordan felt all the blood leave her face for her feet and knew the expression on her face told what was on her heart. "Your memory?"

Woody nodded.

"You remember everything?"

"I remember _everything_."

"Oh." Jordan looked down at her hands and noticed her fingers were now trying to tie themselves in knots. "I…I…I'm happy for you, Woody."

"Thanks…but are you really?"

"Of course."

Woody looked at her closely. "I don't think so….at least not entirely."

"If you remember everything, then you remember us…what happened…" She was still looking down at her fingers.

"I do."

"Then why are you here?" Jordan managed to bite out. Once his memory returned, she was sure that his anger at her would be there again.

"Hey." Woody reached out and gently took her hands…which felt like ice. "Come over by the fire. We need to talk." He pulled her over to the fireplace and sat on the floor, pulling her down with him. He kept her hands in his, rubbing her cold fingers until he was satisfied they, and the rest of her, was getting warm. "I do remember everything, Jordan. And I came to tell you I am sorry for the way I acted. I was an ass…a son of a bitch….everything you said I was, I really was…ten times over."

An apology wasn't what she expected. She anticipated more anger….even though she had gone overboard to help him while he was recovering, she had expected him to resent it. "Oh," was all she could reply as he had effectively taken the wind out of her emotional sails.

"Am I forgiven?"

Still trying to recover, she nodded.

"Can we be friends?"

"Woody…." Even with his apparent change of heart, she wasn't sure that was such a good idea.

"I remember everything, Jo. What happened before I lost my memory and what happened while I was trying to get it back. You were more than kind to me. And you didn't have to be…"

"But I wanted to be," she began. "You were more like your old self…the one before Riggs…my old Woody….the Farm Boy," her voice trailed off, as her face flushed, a little embarrassed at her admission. "The man I fell in love with…." _In for a penny, in for a pound_, she thought, musing over one of Nigel's sayings.

"Everyone changes, Jordan. The incident with Riggs changed me more than I even realized until my memory short circuited and then decided to come back. I became someone I didn't recognize and certainly not the initial man you loved." He released one of her hands to softly brush her hair out of her face. "But he's still in there…that Wisconsin Farm Boy that you loved and that fell in love with you from the first minute he saw you."

"You loved me from the first minute you saw me?"

Woody chuckled. "Okay….love and lust kind of got twisted up in there, but yeah…I think so." He gave a gentle tug to pull her to him and got no resistance. He dropped a kiss to the top of her head and felt her snuggle closer. "Am I forgiven?" he asked again.

She nodded. "Have I changed? Do you think money has made me into someone different?"

"No." His voice came in a whisper above her head. "I tried to believe it would…but it didn't. You've let down the walls you built around yourself, Jordan. That's what's changed about you. I always knew there was this warm, caring, compassionate woman inside…it just took a while to get her out of the tower she built around herself." He moved one hand to her face, tilting it up so she was looking him in the eyes. "Friends?" he softly murmured.

"I think so."

"More than friends, maybe?"

"Oh, I hope so…."

Woody gently brushed his lips to hers and felt her cling to him. He kept the kiss light…although there was a wealth of emotion behind that honest caress.

And he knew the consequences if it got out of hand. Despite the fireplace, the room was chilly….and he and she both would have a hell of a hard time explaining frostbite on certain body parts….

* * *

It was different this time around. From that night during the blizzard on, Woody had made sure of it.

That night, he had simply held her, making sure she was warm, getting up several times during the night to put wood on the fire, letting her depend on him for a change. Not that she hadn't done so in the past, but he hadn't given her opportunity to recently.

He was going to change that, effective immediately. And as the blizzard snows melted away and spring held the promise of a new beginning, so did their relationship. No more one-step-forward-two-steps-back. Woody had plotted a course this time and seemed determined to make progress.

He had learned what made her tick. It wasn't just kissing that spot on her neck that made her go limp and hold tighter to him. It wasn't sending her pink roses for no reason at all.

It was letting her know that he would be there for her no matter what. That he wasn't going to pull away from her again and leave her alone, like so many other people in her life had done.

It took awhile…a long while, but it was worth it. There was a sparkle in her eyes he hadn't seen before. And that sparkle put a spring in his step he had never felt. Woody had always known love was a give and take issue…but never imagined he'd be the happiest giving instead of doing the taking.

It wasn't easy, but it was simple. He smiled to himself when he saw her come into the precinct, reports in hand. "You lookin' for me?" he asked, speaking from across the room at the coffee pot.

"Always." She returned his smile and handed him the reports. "I think everything you need is inside there," she continued, indicating the manila folder.

"Maybe for this case, but not for me." He glanced quickly around the bull pen. No one was really watching…he lightly brushed his lips to hers.

"I was hoping you'd say that…"

"What do you think about getting together this evening…dinner…a movie back at your house?"

"Sounds good detective…but it's too warm for a fire in the fireplace…"

Woody nodded. "I know…but there are other fires to be built…if you know what I mean…" he wagged his eyebrows at her.

"Hmmmm. I think I do…I'll see you tonight, Detective. And don't forget to bring the matches." She walked off with a saunter that sent all his blood pooling south.

Some things never changed.

Thank God.


End file.
